Front Stage Back Stage
by fred27
Summary: Front Stage—-Back Stage looks at the relationship between William Riker and Deanna Troi after Deanna has a miscarriage. Canon is intermixed with author’s own account of how characters and events evolve. Rated K for adult discussion.
1. Chapter 1

Front Stage—Back Stage looks at the relationship between William Riker and Deanna Troi after Deanna has a miscarriage. Canon is intermixed with the author's own account of how characters and events have evolved. This story is rated K+ for its adult conversation and references to sexual situations. Paramount, CBS Television and Simon and Schuster own the characters of Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek: Titan. No copyright infringement was intended with this work. :)

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Front Stage—Back Stage: William Thomas Riker

She's been in the shower for over an hour now. The bathroom door is slightly ajar and I can hear the water beating down on the tiles of the floor. It is like uninterrupted rain, telling me that she isn't showering. I know what she's doing: she's in the corner crying. I shut off the computer monitor and give the command to encrypt and to save my work on the PADD's. Standing up, I take off my favorite blue satin bathrobe and lay it on our bed next to my wife's. It has the Troi family crest on the top pocket and was given as wedding presents to us by Deanna's best friend Channa.

I stroll naked to the bathroom and open the door. The bathroom is 14 square meters—a luxury allowed us as Admiral and Captain. An ensign has the same amount of space, but must share it with a bunkmate. I thank my stars I'm not one of them anymore. The steam rises toward the ventilating system. I adjust my eyes to the half dimmed lights to find my Imzadi beneath the showerheads. Her arms are wound tightly around her legs while her head rests on her knees. She is too deep in her grief to acknowledge me, as I slip into the bathroom, taking shampoo and soap from the replicator cabinet before I enter the shower.

My Admiral is the pet name I call my wife; for at home she is in command. Call me old fashioned and chauvinistic, but it is what works for us. Since I order her around at work all day, the least I can do is respect her wishes within our quarters. At home, My Admiral has the power. And she isn't afraid to take command. She arranges both our social and personal time, makes all vital appointments, and keeps our quarters ship shape. The few remaining relatives whom I have she's contacted and invited them on board, opening the lines of communication that my father never had with our family.

Being a Daughter of the Fifth House, she understands savings and credits. Our investment portfolio never looked better even though with our Star Fleet pensions were covered for life. Plus, she invests my poker winnings. I can't get up from the table before she's plucked up my gold pressed latinum!!! A lesser man would complain, but I can't. I still have enough to gamble away. She keeps me from making social blunders and acts as my personal secretary.

Although I am the captain of the Titan, there isn't a thing that I don't tell her from top-secret communiqués from Star Fleet to whom I reprimanded and put on report. Commander Vale is my Number One, but Commander Troi is on par with her. To tell you the truth, if I were eliminated, I'd want my wife to be captain and Commander Vale to stay where she is to ensure the smooth running of the ship. True, as a Betazed, she has disadvantages such as being overwhelmed by emotions or showing them too openly; however, as a leader and organizer, My Admiral is quiet fire—a person whom many under estimate, but is able to stand and deliver the goods in a tough bind.

For my part, I cook the meals and look after repairs in our quarters. My favorite duty of all is keeping her sexually gratified, which is a pleasant chore of its own. I'm not bragging, but I make her extremely happy. Picard never had it so good. I can't complain: I like our arrangement and wouldn't change a bit.

Duty aside, the most important aspect of being a husband is being there when the chips are down. Right now, it's raining on my part of heaven and it's killing me. One thing my father couldn't believe is that I remember when my mother died and how unhappy she was. This is one of the reasons why we didn't get along: he refused to admit that he screwed up when it came to his family. Well, I won't have to learn that lesson twice, because I lived it as a child. So here I am attending the most important duty: being a proper husband to my wife.

A yelp leaves my lips as I sit in the stream of water. With this sound, her ebony eyes suddenly open and take my sky blue irises into account. She has forgotten the time, looking about somewhat confused. She can't acknowledge me empathically, because her own emotions are all she can deal with. In turn, I'm glad she can't read me for all I am emitting is anger and frustration. Two emotions that I usually try to keep in check while on duty. Considering today's circumstances, I have little desire to control my emotions. With limited training of my empathic abilities, I really don't know how to keep my motions totally under control to protect the woman I love.

Holding out my arms, My Admiral accepts my invitation and settles into them. The water pounds us and we breath in unison. She calms somewhat and relaxes, but this is not for long. For some unexplained reason, an almost indiscernible cry escapes my lips and tears flow down my cheeks. We both howl like children in unison. I bury my face in her hair for a few minutes, letting the sobs rack my body. I feel her hand take hold of my ponytail. It's the only movement she can make, because I am holding her so tightly.

She likes my ponytail, which is streaked with gray. My Imzadi tells me my new hairdo makes me look sexy. I celebrated my 50th birthday by failing to go to the barber for over a year. There never seemed to be time. My hair just grew longer and longer to the appreciation of my wife, who clutches it like a talisman. This simple action also hurts a bit bringing me back to my senses. As quickly as my weeping started, it stops. For some reason, I feel calmer and more able to deal with things now.

She looks at me closely, but doesn't say a word. I think she is somewhat surprised that we are sitting together in the shower sharing our grief. In the past, when we were both sad, days would go by without either of us saying a word. With the exception of today, where my Imzadi was speechless with grief, we've learned to communicate with each other our emotions. Getting here hasn't been easy, because we both weren't used to sharing our deepest emotions with anyone. Now, we have each other to lean on and it feels great.

Lathering the shampoo, I wash her hair, which I love. She wears it straight now, but when she washes it, the curls come right back! Despite a good perm, some things just can't be hidden all the time, so I pile her soapy curls on top of her head. Taking the sponge, I wash her back, move to her arms and then her chest.

Her breasts are sensitive and her nipples stand erect—not from sexual excitement, but from the simple gesture that I make of washing them. Her deep cherry nipples are extended with half dollar size areolas against her ivory skin. The right nipple is slightly higher than her left—a fluke of nature that she didn't have surgically corrected, because it is a sign of being blessed by the Goddess of Enlightenment on Betazed. Moving the sponge in circular patterns and using my right hand, I check their firmness to ensure they are not engorged and the skin is not hot or inflamed. Satisfied that all is well, I move to her stomach then her legs, which are her best feature.

Had My Admiral been a dancer, her arm to leg ratio would have been perfect for ballet. Although her legs are not overly muscular, her muscle tone is superb. Her feet with its regulation nail varnish are large for such a petit woman if one can say that about a size 39-shoe size and a 160 cm frame. I move from her legs and slowly bring the sponge up to her vagina. She is hesitant, but opens her legs and allows me to wash her. I see there is blood on the tiles and the sponge has absorbs some of it. I reach for the showerhead and rinse my Imzadi off. When I come to her vagina, I allow the water to run until it is clear.

"I'm still bleeding," she hiccups with her voice sounding shaky.

"Yes, I see. Dr. Ree said it would bleed for a few days. It's frightening for Betaziods who don't usually bleed after birth, but normal because your human side wants a say in this matter as well. Have you been taking your vitamin supplements?" I ask concern about her iron deficiency. My wife doesn't answer—just nods her head affirmatively. It is the longest conversation we have had since returning from sickbay this afternoon. I quickly wash and shampoo and turn the shower off.

Three months, two weeks, five days and six hours of happiness—Data would have added minutes and seconds—vanish for unexplainable reasons. After going through the pain and invasiveness of artificial insemination, our son decides not to make an appearance. I help my Imzadi to her feet and hit the dry jets. Once we are dry, I sit down on the settee and help her quickly slip on a pair of disposable medical panties that Dr. Ree left on the counter.

I embrace her and put my head against her stomach, taking in her scent while my hands rest on her back and bum. The panties, although replicated, feel of soft-combed cotton with a scent of Jaharan rain forest. The pregnancy filled my wife out slightly, making her breast, hips, and waist rounder and somewhat wider. I like this and would be lying if I said skinny women turn me on.

There was a time when my wife was too thin for my taste, the result of a bout of anorexia nervosa brought on by the violation of Shizon and his viceroy. I was shocked to learn that it wasn't a first occurrence: her father's death, our failed wedding plans 28 years ago, the violation by Alcur and the crashing of the Enterprise D made the disease recurrent. But My Admiral is a true fighter. She's able to recognize the disease, which is genetically determined1, and keep it under control. In fact, it was one of the reasons she went into psychology. My Imzadi is nervous and crosses her arms first against her chest, then embraces me, not knowing what to expect.

I know it's foolish, but we regulate everything with sex. We argue. Afterwards we have sex. The problem is somehow resolved. It's quirky, but it works for us. It's also very Betazoid. Deanna calls it L'frah hin or achieving harmony through our sexual unity. However, now is not the right time. Her empathic powers switched off, my wife is unsure of what I want. I concentrate and speak to her over our telepathic link.

"_I just wanted to take your scent in. You're so delicious. Take as much time as you need to recover. When you're ready, you lead the way; I'll have no problems following,"_ I send rather proud of myself for a long message.

_"I'm so sorry."_

"Sorry for what? That I got infected by a thorn on Surata IV, which reduced my sperm count to nil? That while we were at a diplomatic function on Romulus, you took a phaser hit, saving my life but leaving you with one ovary? We can't do anything about what fate has dealt us."

_"I should have—"_

"_Deanna, I'm not going to let you do this to yourself. We got up, we had breakfast and we went to work. You didn't overstrain yourself_—"

_"I went to mak'bah class and—"_

_"That wasn't the cause. You didn't over exert yourself or do any throwing techniques. You sat on a mat, stretched and meditated."_

_"I can't do anything right!"_

_"Yes, you did. You made me happier than I've ever been in my life these last three months." This answer seems to appease my Imzadi for she can't reply, but hugs me back._

Without saying a word, she attends to my beard. Lately, I haven't really been picky about my appearance. Miles O'Brian, who saw me a few months back at Outpost 253, called it the married with kids look: oily hair, haggard eyes from getting little or no sleep, stained-stinky day old uniform, and the 25 kilos of speck around the stomach that says the wife's been cooking. Now, there's a thought! My Admiral at the stove preparing a meal! I cook; she cleans. That's our division of labor after she nearly destroyed our kitchen preparing spaghetti.

But it's neither my cooking nor my Imzadi's failed attempt at trying to please me that has helped me put on weight. The hormone treatments for my sterility really took its toll. My massive weight gain is the ugly side effect. I almost put a stop to it, but I didn't. I looked at our lives as only lonely children with over bearing parents and realized that I wanted something different for my own family. I've waited so long to start a family and hope to do things right, which ain't easy.

I've had to let go of my ego. Most males take pride in getting their wives pregnant. It's the ancient tradition of what makes a male a proper male. Or the tradition of taking a woman's virginity that is the ultimate achievement—funny how Deanna knocked me down a peg or two on that one. Therefore, having a family is not about my ego or me. It is about our family and our happiness. It's about love and patience, because most couples wouldn't suffer through what we have to get a child.

Now in this whole process, I've shed a few tears, because that is how inadequate I've felt as a man and as a husband. Talk about performance pressure. Not being able to give up a decent sperm sample. Dr. Ree waiting outside our quarters until we are finished making love to examine us. The high-resolution pictures of us in the act that show everything. Admiral and Captian on the examination table legs sprawled out like the Christmas goose for inspection. It has been humiliating, but we were rewarded at the end: we conceived our son along with fertilizing three other eggs.

And my Imzadi? Deanna's been pretty good about it all. She hasn't said a negative word or placed blame about my sterility. In fact she blames herself although she's not at fault. And my weight gain, she has just left me alone about that, too. However, I know she is wheeling and dealing in that beautiful head of hers. She can't help it for she's a counselor. Either she'll get Dr. Ree to pull me up on my weight or Counselor Huilan when I go in for evaluation. If those two have no effect, she'll enlist my Number One, Vale, who's already made a few remarks. I plan on heading her off. I'll take her swimming tomorrow and swim a 1000 meters if it kills me.

I really should do some calisthenics, but I'm too bushed. Right now, I just want to sit back and enjoy my Imzadi shaving me. Since the Baku Affair, it's been her favorite tra li han or humbling of herself to me. She trims me up better than Mr. Mott. Plus, throws in a hair cut for good measure without extra charge. Now, I like my beard full, but she has taken the liberty to pare it down, because she is ticklish when I give her cunnilingus. She welds our old fashioned straight razor—a wedding gift from Geordi who appreciated a good shave—like a professional and is finished within five minutes. Damn, she's good—no cuts and no bleeding. Mott eat your heart out!

My Admiral is eyeing me at her vanity table before she starts to comb her hair. Her hair is past her waist and starting to hang straight again. I'm hoping she still finds me sexy with my gut, because I'm starting to look like Santa Claus! Despite her puffy eyes and red nose, she gives me her best smile and turns around. She loves me! There is a God! She is so special to me. I love her so much and couldn't think of doing anything to harm our relationship. My Imzadi is the main reason why I finally took captaincy. When she proposed to me, I realized if I were going to marry her and do right by her, I couldn't continue to put myself in harms way as Number One.

I loved my job under Picard, but she was more important. I had to give her a home of her own. Titan is our new home. With the exception of the Romulan attack, which I try very hard not to think about too much because I almost lost her, I've been out of harms way. Do I miss leading the away team? I'd be lying if I said no. But I've gained so much more and eventually we'll get our family underway.

With a lazy smile plastered on my face, I'm drifting off to sleep. My Admiral finishes with her hair and comes over and kisses me awake. She blushes bright red, because she knows what I have on my mind. God, she's lovely. I'd take her now if it weren't for all the pain and sorrow we had today. Then I think twice about it. She'd kill me and I'd die a happy man with a guilty conscience, knowing my Imzadi was in the brig for killing her horny disrespect SOB of a husband.

Plus, Miles O'Brian gave me the lecture: don't even think about having sex for a good two months if I want my browning points in the future. Thank you Miles O'Brian for parting that bit of wisdom on me. It'll save my life and keep the tongues from wagging on the Titan. I'll take a look at that hollow program Miles gave me. It's called Quark's Production and is rumored to have made even Picard happy. Better yet, I know my Imzadi has a little hollow stash she keeps hidden away and looks at while I'm not on ship. That should tie me over until she's ready.

We walk naked to our bed and she lies down. Her hair is splayed out to dry on the pillows. My Imzadi looks at the ceiling and takes deep gulping breaths, as I rub an anti-lactation cream over her breasts, which are still tender and have the occasional discharge. Then I wrap a SSC (surgical support cloth) around her breast. It's looks like a tube top, but is absorbent and offers support without irritating her skin. I was shocked to find out that some of the women even used SSC instead of bras, so good is the support. When this is finished, I message a moisturizer all over her body, paying special attention to her stomach, because she has the gene for stretch marks2 as well as receiving a skin graft after being hit by a Romulan disrupter. Furthermore, a message helps her body function better as she only has one kidney. I notice that she's scratching herself somewhat and make a mental note to tell Dr. Ree. Because of her mixed heritage, her body rejected the first skin graph and a second rejection could be a possibility.

Try as I may, That Day sneaks up on me in the most unexpected moments like now when Deanna is scratching herself or last week when an ensign was shot accidentally during weapons training. I'd be lying to myself if I said that I don't feel guilty about her taking a hit for me. I close my eyes, as I continue to message my wife, hoping she doesn't notice the pained expression on my face or feel my emotions.

The memory of my Admiral taking a disrupter blast that was meant for me flashes in my mind once again. Deanna was the first to comprehend we were walking into an ambush. She gave me the best warning she could and I barked out orders to the Titan. When the firing started, I noticed our attackers were missing their mark. My Star Fleet training kicked in and I overtook Admiral Janeway because I realized that hostages might be taken. When Vale and Janeway went down, I saw they had been stunned. Then a blast hit me in the leg, making a 20-centimeter hole. This is when I understood I was the target. So did My Admiral. She positioned herself between an oncoming assailant and me. The Romulan went down, but a second blast from another fighter and a different direction hit her. The blast was so strong it knocked Deanna off her feet and sent her flying into the air against me.

I can still feel the ricochet of the disrupter blast on my chest before My Admiral's body penned me on my back to the ground. The landing made a horrible thunk as Deanna fell spread eagle across my chest. Her phaser involuntarily went off close to my face, singeing my hair and eyebrows. I honestly thought I had died and was about to meet my maker. I thanked God for this life. But before I was through, the horrifying sight of my wife, lying across my chest, with her internal organs burnt and coming out her left side brought me back to reality. As I couldn't move for the pain, I simply put my hand on my Imzadi's gapping wound in an attempt to stop the hemorrhaging.

Along with the smell of burnt flesh, the one thing I vividly remember was how quiet it suddenly was. It scared me that I couldn't hear voices in the background or that no one came immediately to our rescue. I called for the Titan to beam us out. The last thing My Admiral did was to move her left hand a few centimeters away from my head. The tingle of the transporter beam caught us. I learned later that had she not have done this; she and I most probably would have died from our injuries.

My wife—my savior! Talk about standing and delivering the goods. Deanna fought like a lioness, protecting her family from harm. Although I haven't told her in words, I'm so proud of her. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed that she was capable of such bravery and the ultimate selfless sacrifice. She deserves better than me.

I know I shouldn't feel guilty about her recovery, but I do. I wasn't there when she woke up from the anesthesia because I was still in surgery. Dr. Ree was. He had to give her the bad news. He held her when she cried like a baby for an hour. He sat the night through with her. By the time I came around, the only thing I could offer was my profound thanks to my spouse, an officer who performed one of the most unselfish acts of service that I've ever seen. I'm so grateful for her saving my life along with Picard, Janeway and the crew; I'm grateful that she understands the commands of duty. She's never held a grudge against me regarding the ambush or said that she has regretted her actions. Even in the inquiry she said she'd do it again if she had to.

We've lived through the nightmare that everyone warned us about: what would you do when you have to send your spouse off to die or put her in the line of fire? Answer: do your duty publicly and cry on each other's shoulders privately. That's what we do—in the shower or in our bed. It's become our routine. Our quarters are our safe haven away from the crew. We work out our problems here. Sometimes, we've even had to use each other's office. Our home on the Titan is our sanity and shelter from the storm outside.

That Day as I call it, is one I can't run away from. Deanna can't watch the vids of it—they give her nightmares that were worse than when the Enterprise D crashed. Once was enough for her. I've watched it enough to know that the Romulans were asleep on the job. Talk about derelict of duty. Dad always said, "Never hire a hyena to protect any game. She'll eat it and take the rest home to her pups." So true!

A 125-meter walk to a beam out platform in a secured zone turned ugly, because the Romulans failed to take the proper precautions. They allowed an ultra-conservative group named the Tail Reial'Riiatt, one of a dozen state security organizations that policed the Tail Shiar, to participate in the talks without first doing a background check on them to see if they were in line with the current politics. They weren't. The Tail Reial'Riiatt employed their sleepers within the established government. The result: they were able to ambush us with limited resistance from the Romulan delegates. It was Captain Saavik who saw the attack for what it was and came to the rescue the Federation party. After Deanna stunned the alpha dog and saved me. The rest of the group attempted to scatter, but didn't get far thanks to Saavik's quick thinking.

Now, I've heard of Section 31, who supposedly looks after the best interest of the Federation. The Tail Reial'Riiatt are in a league of their own, making the Tail Shiar look like pussycats. Plus, they answer the question, "Who watches the watcher?" Deanna hates them with a passion. I don't blame her. My Imzadi had a beautiful spirit until that accident. Now, she questions the goodness in people and has a hate for the Romulans that is so cruel I fear she might act on those feelings. This is something, which I've never seen previously in her as a person. At times, I wish Worf were here, because he could help My Admiral to walk the path of atonement. After all if two fighting Klingon hearts did it and lived happily ever after, so can two opposing people.

Good ol' Worf, now that is someone I haven't thought about for some time now. Funny how the future that Q shared with Picard never was entirely fulfilled. Worf was an ambassador for the Klingon Homeworld, but now he's back on the Entrerprise E with Picard. Unlike Q's prediction, we never fought over Deanna. I gave Worf my blessing to date Deanna. Unfortunately, their relationship ran the usual courtship pattern before ending.

In fact, I know that my Imzadi still loves Worf. There is nothing I can do about it and frankly I don't want to. Why? Because when her Phase hits full force, I know I may not be up to the challenge, considering my problems with sterility that may lead to impotency later in my life. I'd rather her find happiness with Worf, a person whom I both admire as an officer and a friend, then roam about the galaxy unhappy like her mother going from one reckless relationship to the other. I haven't told her this yet, but when the time comes I will, because I hold her happiness in such high regard.

I feel how she relaxes under my hands and the occasional hiccup that causes her body to shake. From time to time, a tear rolls down her cheek from blood shot eyes. I stop and embrace her for a few minutes, showering her with gentle kisses to her face.

I like taking care of my wife. It's the least I can do, since I can't carry a child. Plus, she's always saving my ass from some stupid social blunder or fielding overbearing passengers or dignitaries from me. She's got the PADD's with the updates and the inside information. My Admiral does both our homework and more. Without her, I'm a disaster waiting to happen. Therefore, when I've got the time, I pay attention to her needs, because there are so many times when I don't even say thank you for the many courtesies that she does for me.

When I finish the message, I pat My Admiral on her bum, which is flat as a pancake and which simply refused to fill out during her pregnancy unlike her breasts and stomach. She moves over to allow me into our bed. I pull the covers up over us and put my Imzadi onto my chest. She automatically twines her legs around my waste and settles comfortably on my chest, her favorite resting spot.

"Lights out," I call. We are quiet for a while. From time-to-time, I hear my beloved sniffle. I kiss her forhead and say in my most serious voice, "My Admiral, just do me one favor. Don't tell the crew I was in the bathroom bawling like a baby. I have to maintain my appearance as ship's captain. Can't have the crew thinking I'm a crybaby!" A nervous giggle escapes her lips and then a laugh to my relief. The image of me as a crybaby is rather comical. She knows when I am being sarcastic. We will overcome this together. Tomorrow, we'll call her mother and tell her the unfortunate news. In a few months, we'll make another visit to Dr. Ree. I hope it will be a girl next time around.

My Admiral jumps in my arms and I know she is having another nightmare. I embrace her tighter and send her a happy thought. It does the job. When I notice that my Imzadi is asleep, I place her on her side of the bed and turn on the climate control. She likes it hot. I like it cold. Tomorrow, I'll make her chocolate pancakes with smiley faces for breakfast. For me, it'll be fruit and toast. Lying back on my pillow, I allow a few more tears to escape my eyes. Thank God Dr. Ree gave us medical leave. I'm so bushed from our loss that I need it.

Front Stage—Back Stage: Deanna Troi

My Captain is brooding over his work. His PADDs and computer take a finger pounding. This is where he's been for the last two hours since we have returned from sickbay. I stare absently out at the stars while lying on the bed. We are charting yet another unknown star system deep in Romulan space, as part of the peace treaty between the Federation, who want to know what's actually out there and the Romulan Empire, who don't really care unless there is something in it for them.

The Romulans and Remans. I hate them. They took away my babies. It was bad enough that Shizan and his Reman Viceroy had telepathically raped me. In an assasination attempt on Wil's life, the Romulans had to stick the knife in deeper by hitting me with a disrupter that distroyed my left ovary completely.

The final act of diplomacy was a celebration banquet held after the signing of the armistance and economic agreement between the Federation and Romulan Empire as allies and The Klingon Empire and the Remens, as detenté partners. As I was one of the chief negiotiators of the agreement with My Captain--my pet name for Wil in our quarters, we were joined by Admiral Janeway and Captain Picard. Everything had gone well at the banquet. After the festivities and with only minimal security to show good faith, we started to walk toward the beam out coordinates in the Romulan Senate's garden, leaving our hosts behind.

My empathic abilities told me something was wrong immediately when we came outside. I cautioned Wil telepathically. From the expression on my face, Worf took my queue. We drew our weapons and stepped up the pace. My Captain ordered immediate beam out upon reaching the coordinates. As we continued to walk, Wil, who was shadowed by Vale, took over the lead from Janeway and her personal guard. Worf shielded Picard. Since I was the weakest link, Lt. Keru and I fell back bringing up the rear. Disrupter blast came from all sides. With no place to hide, we huddled on the ground as fire was exchanged. Janeway was down immediately and was followed by Vale and Keru.

My last conscious thought was to protect My Captain—not as a wife—but as a Starfleet officer. I hadn't even thought about my personal safety when I took out a Romulan heading straight for Wil, who had been wounded in the leg. A shot meant for him hit me in my left side. The force of the blast jettisoned me into my commanding officer and sent us sprawling on the ground. Before I passed out, I remember the smell of burnt uniform and skin. I thought it odd that I was the last one down, being that I was not as well trained in defense.

I woke in Sickbay to Dr. Ree. His cool claws holding my hand and saddened eyes proclaimed my loss. The disrupters were set on stun; only the shot for Wil, who had acted as Diplomatic Mediator for the Federation, was set to kill. Luckily, I was hit at an odd angle. This is what saved us both. According to the Tal Shiar, the responsible parties were a group of loyalist, who were supportive of the old regime.

Wil handled the whole situation in front of the crew exceptionally well. He praised everyone for his or her bravery. Admiral Janeway handed out medals to all involved while the Romulans apologized profusely. Privately, Wil and I first suffered in silence. But we soon realized that silence wasn't the answer. When Wil began seeing Hiunan regularly and I started seeing Tuvak, who not only assisted me with my personal problems, but has also helped me with my telepathic and empathic abilities, we were better able to begin a dialogue as a couple. We have learned to work on our issues together. This is especially true for Wil who has had problems in the past dealing with his personal problems.

I've also learned to be more forth coming and have stopped putting on my counselor persona in our quarters. If one thing I've learned in the last two years since we have been married is that I must stop attempting to be perfect. Our lives aren't about perfection, but harmony within the ship we call home. After a year of counseling, we finally made a decision that we wanted a family and turned to Dr. Ree for fertility treatments. It was he who found that Wil's sperm count was low.

Despite what the Romulans did to me, I still feel guilty and stupid right now. I feel guilty because I most probably over exerted myself fulfilling my duties—not wanting to give My Captain an excuse to coddle me in front of the crew. I feel guilty because I exercised the morning of the miscarriage. By the Goddess I'm so vain for not fancying getting fat during pregnancy. I feel stupid because I can't do a simple thing like have a child while on many worlds most women excel in spades at producing children, putting their worlds in jeopardy of over population.

Aside from feelings of guilt and stupidity, I'm paralyzed with regret and grief over the loss of this child. I regret that I didn't have children earlier like mother requested. My grieving hurts so much that I can't speak and don't, leaving a dearth between my husband and me. I thought I had all the time in the world. I'm reminded of the conversation I had with Captain Picard about him being the last of his line. Picard said, "There will be no more Picards," as he finitely closed the family photo album. Then I felt sorry for Picard, but smug in my own thoughts that things would be different for me. With the exception of my baby brother, I may be the last daughter of the Fifth House. I no longer feel smug or that I have all the time in the world to have children.

And Mother. What do I tell her? She looked forward to becoming a grandmother. I feel that I'm letting my House down. Now, I understand why mother was so fearful all those years. I'm not the least bit angry with her for goading me into having a family. One thing that I have learned from the last few months is there are no guarantees in life. What we want and what we receive as part of our fate are two different things. Fate is fickle.

Along with feeling bad about Mother, I feel that I let My Captain down after all he has done to make our dream of a family come true. He underwent fertility treatment, which was humiliating to his ego and pride. The least I could do to make it worthwhile is to carry his child for ten months without incident. I'm so useless at times.

Oh, my poor dear husband, to be settled with the likes of me. Wil is so loving and giving. He has come a long way since we first met almost thirty years ago. Then he was so impatient, wanting to arrive at his goals without being deterred or actually understanding the processes that are needed to be successful. It was basically get the job done. Now, it is different. He's more seasoned and less impatient with the world. He understands the various processes that are needed to get from one point to point. He even has learned to better understand my culture and what I need to be fulfilled. He sees me not as something that needs to be conquered, but as a person who is his companion and equal. He treats me with the highest regard and respect and I do the same for him.

My husband allows me to sail the course at home. Despite having a career, I married a Star Fleet captain and it entails certain duties and responsibilities. I have control at home, because My Captain simply doesn't have the time to deal with all the minor details such as a social life or birthdays. I pride myself in keeping his home life as stress free as possible. Sometimes it tires me out and I feel that I'm stretching myself too thin, but I wouldn't have it any other way as Admiral Troi-Riker. Call me old fashioned, but I pride myself in being his wife and attending to his household and personal needs.

Right now, I've just finished our retirement portfolios and was surprised to find that although my Captain wasn't broke, he had gambled away a major portion of his income over the last 20 years playing poker. I was literally stunned, because I didn't realize he took his hobby so seriously or so recklessly for that matter. Plus, on the Enterprise, Wil never played for credits, just the odd dinner or chips. On the other hand, Will was surprised that I had anorexia.

Because of this, we agreed to keep checks on each other. As a Daughter of the Fifth House, I can't have my husband in a financial mess, so now I keep an eye on what goes out and what comes in. At his last tournament he won 25,000 bars of gold pressed latinum—I went weak in the knees after learning this, as it was a small fortune. He got to keep 10,000, because he needs 5 grand to register and 5 grand to play in the next tournament. I took and invested the balance much to Gaandis dismay. That overweight Feringi thought Wil would just put his winnings on the table and go for broke. Good thing I appeared with phaser in pocket and Titan in the sky! For Wil's part, he makes sure I eat properly and prepares me a good meal whenever we are together. My weight hasn't fluctuated, so I'm happy.

My empathic powers are switched off and I can't read my husband. To tell you the truth at times like these, I like having an overload of my own emotions, because then I can just deal with myself and not have to worry about keeping my shields up or interpreting others. When we came home from Sickbay, I lowered my shields to take an account of my Imzadi. His feelings were so full of sadness, raw rage and disappointment that the repercussions from it made me stumble over my own feet. I hadn't expected him to be so emotional over our loss. He put me to bed immediately, thinking I was still to weak to be up and about. And here I still lay wrapped in my favorite blue robe.

I want to cry, but don't wish to disturb My Captain. He's just as lost and confused as I am. We both looked at Dr. Ree with disbelieving eyes when he told us there was no clear reason why I miscarried. Everything was perfect: the embryo was a healthy male in the end of the thirteenth week with no deformities. He lay nestled in the center of my womb—just where he should be. I'd dieted, exercised and took my vitamin supplements according to the regime Dr. Ree set. My blood work and urine analysis were fine with no illness or virus. Wil had been giving a clean bill of health too, so it wasn't possible for him to pass on anything to me.

Yet, this child chose not to be born. At 13:00 while going to meet Commander Vale for crew assessment, I began hemorrhaging in the turbo lift and felt immediately my son's life slip away. Beamed to sickbay by Dr. Ree, the only thing he could do was clean me up and give me a hypo.

Dr. Ree was very understanding and stated that many times couples were pregnant, but lost their child unknowingly. He told me that I was special. Being a Betazoid, I will always empathically feel a life inside me. This makes a miscarriage even more difficult to bear. Despite my gift, a loss like ours was normal and part of the life cycle. Just because a child is conceived does not mean it will be born Ree had explained while he ordered three days medical leave for My Captain and me. Sometimes couples forget that in their joy of being pregnant.

What wasn't normal was that we are not only genetically semi-incompatible (talk about terminology according to the law of odds), but we are practically sterile. Although getting pregnant during the phase is a good possibility and every third Betazoid woman chooses to have a child at this time including my mother, I really didn't want to wait another 25 years to fill our empty nest.

I turn my attention back to my Imzadi, who just flicked his ponytail over his shoulder. I love men with long hair and find it very sexy. One of the things that turned me on about Worf was his long mane of hair. My beloved looks stunningly handsome and very sexy, turning many eyes on ship. But when they saw us today, there was only compassion in their eyes when we left Sickbay. Although the crew and compliment meant well, I hate being felt sorry for and prefer to settle my personal affairs out of the public's eye. Therefore, I get up, take off my robe and go into the bathroom without a word.

Our bathroom is large and well equipped when compared to what the rest of the crew has. Most quarters are the size of our bathroom with two ensigns or newlyweds sharing it. When I was a young ensign, I made lieutenant early and only had to share my quarters for less than a year. I turn on the shower. After examining my disposable medical panties, I throw it away. I'm still bleeding and it makes me uncomfortable.

Although I'm only half-human, my Betazoid side didn't protect me from not having a menstrual cycle. Unlike Betazoids who don't have a cycle, but release an egg every month, I only have my period for a few days in the year. If I were full Betazoid and gave birth, everything would be nice and neat and hardly any blood. But I am not and must accept the situation as it is. Still, I don't know how my sisters on Earth survive decades of being on their periods. It's a terrible nuisance. But I am also envious: human women are fertile once a month while I only have a few opportunities each year thanks to my mixed heritage.

I sit on the wall under the shower controls and begin to cry. My baby is gone and I can't have him back. I hate the Romulans with such a furry. Maybe one day I will forgive them, but today is not the day. I feel cold despite the climbing temperature in the shower. I notice the blood running between my legs and howl even louder. I'm helpless against this situation. For some strange reason, I want my mother and father. My mother would make it better somehow and offer up one of her wild ideas to cheer me up. As for my father, I think about him often and speak to him as if he were here. His presence always made me feel better, but today somehow he seems further away then usual. I've lost our special union, making me feel even more lost and alone.

My stomach itches and I scratch absently while looking for stretch marks that don't exist. When Dr. Ree informed me of my genetic propensity for stretch marks, he asked me if I wanted a prescription against it. On his planet, a sagging stomach was a badge of honor! The image of a female version of Dr. Ree with her stomach on the ground made me giggle—okay snicker. I am vain and can't see myself attending a traditional Betazoid wedding with stretch marks—think of the talk!

My breasts, which are tender and enlarged, are the worst betrayers of all. Losing my child was almost like giving birth. It triggered the lactation process and I had to take an anti-lactation hypo. Despite this, there is still some excretion and my chest has grown at least one-cup size. Dr. Ree said this should go away in a few days and gave me an anti-lactation cream. I weep while I place pressure on my breasts to relieve them. When I'm done, I put my arms around my legs and place my head on my knees. There is no end to my bawling while the water bounces off the tiles and drains into the recycling unit. I hope the sound is loud enough to hide my howls of grief.

I'm entirely zoned into my world that I don't hear my Imzadi come into the shower until the hot water hits him and he meows like a Betazoid kitten in duress. Opening my eyes, I find that he is sitting on the floor looking at me with outstretched arms. I slide over to ease into his arms. I was afraid that he wouldn't come and remain at his desk all night brooding. He did that when the Romulan disrupter hit me. I called Dr. Ree to give him a sedative; I was that afraid of his response.

I try to calm myself for him, but our emotions resonant off each other when we are this close together. Our bond has developed immensely since our marriage. Tuvak, who counsels me, and I have been giving Wil mental discipline lessons. My Captain has become more adept at receiving and sending me short messages and identifying when I am within close proximity of him. But I've learned from my husband as well. Wil is able to project onto me his calm and discipline, which he uses in times of danger. These skills that he has I have turn to my advantage. Had I not had this training from him, I might have not survived the Romulan ambush.

I drop my blocks, so that we can be together as one. While feeling his grief and anger, I succumbed to his emotions. Sitting on the floor with my Beloved huddled over me, we weep in unison, letting out our rage and frustration. I'm both shocked and in aw of My Captain. I've never seen him cry before. His grip on me is so tight that I can only take hold of his wet ponytail for comfort and glance up at him. Somehow, the pain ceases to be so great and Wil is able to gain control of him self after a few minutes. I'm not as overcome now that my Imzadi's emotions aren't overwhelming me. My weeping becomes less and is accented by the occasional hiccup and sniffle, which has replaced my tears and crying.

My husband begins washing my hair, which curls when it gets wet. Wil loves this. My secret is Mr. Mott the hairdresser on the Enterprise D and later E. In fact, he was waiting for me to make the change, stating that although he found my clothing and hairstyle very appealing and non-threatening toward my clients, it didn't do much for my professional demeanor, making me look more seductive than productive! Mr. Mott—Got to love him! He gave me his secret formula when I left for the Titan and videos me to see if it is up to his standards.

Wil is really pampering me. He's now washing my back. I love this for my Imzadi has the most skilled hands that I've ever known a man to have. When we are making love, his hands know exactly where to be at the right time, bringing me additional pleasure. His messages are not painful and can release me quickly from my tension. When I come from mak'bar practice, My Captain firm application of deep message techniques gets the kinks out of my body. If he is too tired to do his husbandly duty, which has come to past several times, his hands work better than any sex toy I have in my night stand.

I continue enjoying my Imzadi bathing me. When he comes to my legs, I am a bit hesitant. With my mind still reeling from our emotions, I say something stupid: I'm still bleeding. Talk about stating the obvious. Wil knows how I feel about my menstrual cycle and how inadequate it makes me feel. Despite the discomfort and embarrassment that I feel, my Imzadi continues ever so gently. I let go of my ego and open my legs, allowing my husband access to my vagina, which bleeds like an open wound. Tears and hiccups accompany him washing me. My husband will never be able to share my pain, but this simple act of kindness is the best way that he can demonstrate the principle of Bah rin or understanding that Betazoids cherish. For this I love him more. When it is over, he rinses me off and attends to his own needs. I'm in such a weakened state from grieving that I rest against the shower and watch him thinking of us.

We argue often, but we never go to bed angry. It's against the Betazoid principle of L'frah hin or harmony. If Wil were Betazoid, we could do a mind meld to achieve this harmony, but he isn't. Neither is he advanced enough with his mental discipline to make it possible. Making love is how we achieve L'frah hin. During love making, we, as Imzadi, have several minutes when are minds are one and we can share each other thoughts and ideas explicitly. When this is done, the issue can be resolved and a resolution is usually found before we go to sleep or the next day.

Although I look forward to the day when Wil and I can do a mind meld, I won't look forward to loosing our lovemaking session, because I need them not only to complete our emotional union, but also to fulfill my sexual yearnings. There is a saying on Betazed, "To fulfill one's sexual needs, is to fulfill one's life wishes." A happy sexual life is paramount to a happy life: a philosophy I agree with 100 percent.

My Captain shuts off the showers and helps me to my feet. A towel isn't necessary because we have dry jets, which are a Betzoid invention of my maternal aunt that uses an energizer beam to dry the body. A push of a button and we step out of the shower dry with the exception of our hair. Sitting on the settee, he helps me slip into a pair of disposable medical panties. I really like these briefs for they have a cooling gel in the lining that makes me feel clean while being absorbent and sterile. Then he holds me tightly with his head buried in my stomach.

Not having control over my empathy, I'm lost as to what to do. Could Wil have picked up on my thoughts of our making love? Didn't he understand that now wasn't the proper time? Could my hormones be so out of sink that I allowed a Freudian slip? I want to flee until my Imzadi speaks to me in Betazoid using our link. He tone sooths me. He tells me that within the last three months I've made him the happiest man in the universe. I'm left speechless and hug him. I promise myself to try not to feel so guilty and inadequate over what has happened. This is when I wish I were Wil. He feels bad about me taking a hit for him, but he has somehow figured out how to not feel guilty about it. What he does feel bad about is not being there for me when I woke up in recovery. Or perhaps he has just replaced one form of felling guilty with another?

Wil talks to me in Betazeed, my own language. He tells me that I made him happy for three months, two weeks, five days, six hours, 27 minutes and 6 seconds. Data would have been proud of me for knowing the exact time. From the very minute of implantation, I had worn a pregnancy alert band, which monitored the bodily functions of our child and me. Dr. Ree wanted me to be monitored at all times; now I understand his concern.

We are quiet while I brush My Captain's hair. He's showing slight signs of baldness with his gray, but he isn't vain like I am and dyes it. He also has a bit of a gut. Captain Picard would be shock to see that his Number One let himself go to a whopping 30 kilos over Starfleet regulations, weighing in at 110!!! Yet, I know why it's come to this. One of the side effects of the therapy to increase his sperm count had been weight gain—a topic that is very sensitive, so I only broach the subject when it is a must. At least he looked fantastic at our wedding on Betazoid. As for now, I have a little bit more to cuddle and get to be on top when we make love—something that we both enjoy.

Plus, he misses the action of being part of the away team although he'd never admit it. This kept him fit in the past. Now, he is reduced to micro managing. We seriously have to talk about this personality quirk. Better yet, I am going to inform Counselor Huilan, who can broach the issue. Plus my partner in crime is Dr. Ree, who will issue orders for him to get in shape. Of course, Wil knows this himself. It is not to say that he doesn't enjoy being captain, rather he has to get used to his new role as captain and what is expected of him.

The Titan is now our new home. I'm glad Wil took his promotion. Personally, I had gotten board while on the Enterprise E and had run out of things to do once I qualified as helmsperson, completed my PhD and made commander. If Wil had turned down the Titan and had he turned down my marriage proposal, I was prepared to follow Beverly to Star Fleet command after over 25 years in space.

I had been studying for my certificate in intergalactic diplomacy through the long distance education branch of the Diplomatic Core. Upon completion of my studies, I could have taught at the Academy or taken a new assignment as ambassador. Luck would have it that Wil needed a diplomatic officer and offered me the position. I'm rather proud that I achieved the rank of Federation Ambassador without Mother's help. While the Titan was doing its last shakedown, I was at the academy taking my final exams, graduating with honors. So here we are on our new ship with our new lives and new challenges.

My Imzadi's hair is almost finished. I add a conditioner to his hair and trim the ends. If Mr. Mott saw me, he'd have my hide. Then I reach for the old fashioned straight razor on the counter to trim his beard and to shave his neck. My job as Admiral Troi is to ensure that his beard stays within regulation. Secretly, I love shaving it off, because when he is giving me cunnilingus, it tickles and I start to laugh. It's not funny to me, but he gets a thrill out of me laughing. I tolerate it and have disciplined myself down to a few giggles when my husband isn't tormenting me to distraction.

The beard finished I comb my own hair while my Imzadi watches me lazily. I can see that he is tired just like I am and sits back on the settee, watching me at my vanity table. His eyes flutter often and he doesn't hold his posture. I really have to cut my hair as it is down to my bum, having grown over 20 centimeters during my pregnancy. I turn to him and smile; he smiles back and admires my backside. He really should be doing his push-up and set-ups, but I'm not going to insist tonight. I'm too tired for a struggle and he doesn't need another low blow to his ego.

Getting up from my table, I have to kiss him wake so we can go bed. I blush like a schoolgirl when I feel Wil's emotions. My husband, Goddess love him, has sex on the brain! Cheeky, bastard! It's not me giving off the wrong signal. Poor man, he's so in love with me, but he's making a good show of hiding it—ever the gentleman. Unfortunately, the well is dry tonight! But I keep this too myself, as not to embarrass My Captain further. I'm going to have to find that hollow program that Beverly pinched from Captain Picard. What was it called Quarks & Co? I've used it a few times in Wil's absence and it's just the thing for him until I get better in about four weeks time.

We get up and go into our bedroom, where I lay down on the bed. Wil is immediately beside me with my anti-lactation cream and moisturizer. He sets to work on my breast. Again I begin to gulp for air and cry. I can't seem to help myself, because I feel that my body is just one open wound, breasts included. My Captain spoils me with butterfly kisses to my face. The gestures somewhat calms me down, so that he can begin giving me a lymphoid drainage message.

My body is swollen from the miscarriage, as I have only one kidney—thanks to the Romulans. I also lost an ovary. Therefore, my remaining kidney must work overtime to cleanse my body. Dr. Ree took a graft of my kidney that is being used to grow a new one. It should be ready in a few months. Actually, it would have been transplanted shortly before the baby was due in order for me to better process the toxins produced in my body. The message helps my bodily fluids drain properly.

Wil comes to my left side of my stomach and I flinch. I open my eyes to notice my husband's pained expression. A wave of guilt washes over me, as I feel my husband's sadness. Because I'm not a telepath, I can't tell if it is because of the loss of our child or the phaser blast. I take my hand and outline the back of his jaw. He relaxes somewhat and continues to message my stomach.

Because my body rejected the first skin graphs, the skin is still sensitive in certain areas, despite it being over a year since the ambush. Not only did I lose my left ovaries—Betazoid females have two pairs, I lost two ribs, and a part of my stomach and a section of small intestines. The Romulan disrupter literally blew everything to bits. Dr. Ree rebuilt me with the help of modern medicine. With the exception of my ovaries, I look normal inside. It feels normal, too. Thank the Goddess above for such great medical miracles. Therefore, I can enjoy the messages of my husband.

Yet, I still can't help thinking back on the day of the attack from time to time. _That Day_, as Wil calls it, is something I just want to put out of my mind. I'm so full of hate that I'm only allowed to go on away mission when I'm absolutely needed, because I haven't properly processed _That Day _and have anxiety about getting shot. Suffice it to say, I'm on drugs when I do go out and that as my Imzadi says, "Ain't good."

Although I viewed security video of the incident, I could only do it once for Tuvac, who acts as my therapist. I couldn't take seeing my colleagues and I get shot repeatedly. I haven't even read the official report and don't want to know about the half truths that were invented by the Romulans while we were sitting ducks, getting fired on by their people. Tuvac believes I'll come around after some time has passed, but I feel like Worf now. I'll recover when the responsible parties burn in hell or rot in prison. Why? Because that one incident took something precious away from me: my ability to give life, which is so scared to me.

The incident also left me more emotionally scared than anything that I've been through. The Enterprise D going down was a crisis for me, because I blamed myself and couldn't sleep for days. When Captain Picard immediately got the E, it helped to heal me of that wound and showed me there were second chances. My anorexia that is reoccurring is genetically linked. I can deal with it through mental exercises and keeping my personal grief in check. Wil helps out and makes sure that I eat well, too. But _That Day_ I can't seem to get past.

And I remember everything like it was yesterday. Our hand held phasers were almost useless against the Romulan disrupters. Being the last one to fall, it was very obvious they were going after Janeway and Wil. It was the shear luck that when I got hit, I fell against Wil. We both landed near the beam out platform. Wil tells me we were too far for transport, but I somehow moved my right hand above my head, touching the transport platform and giving the transporter technician a lock to beam us out. Had not this had happened, I would have died a slow painful death from my injuries. Wil luckily only suffered second-degree burns on his chest while the rest of the team was simply stunned. Strangely enough, I can't remember moving my hand only the quiet of a cease-fire and the smell of my burnt flesh and uniform.

I'm getting sleepy with such a lovely message and am sad that it is ending. Wil gets into bed and puts me on his chest. He smells so good and is so cuddly thanks to the extra fat. I'd be lying if I said that I like my men 100% muscle—like Worf. Muscle is good, but not comforting at a time like this. My Imzadi makes me feel loved, comforted and protected with this body he has now. He's done everything so right this evening. He knows what it means to be a husband. For this I love him. He is my strength and my rock.

My Captain makes me want to be a better person. There are only three other men who have ever had this much influence on me: my father, Captain Picard and Worf. My father loved me unconditionally. He really didn't care if I were telepathic or empathic. What he cared about was instilling in me a sense of purpose, self-value and self-esteem. No matter what I did, he supported me and loved me. He respected me as a person. He never discounted the child's world that I lived in. He was so angry that Mother had gotten rid of my Betazoid kitten without even asking me what I wanted. My parents came to blows about that one. It is the only fight that I can remember my parents having.

I guess my father is the reason why I waited so long to loose my virginity. When I was growing up on Betazed, all my friends had their first sexual experience by their eighteenth birthdays. Putting aside my nagging mother, who insisted I should have a child early and a few poor choices in men such as Devanali Ral, I really want to value my sexual experiences. Because most Betazoids grow up in a sexually free society, they didn't understand my human approach to my sexuality. Wil was one of the first men who actually took the time to be with me and learn about who I was, as a person. True, he had sex on the brain, which lead to a quick, but regrettable, rump with Windy Roper and had a lot to learn about what a relationship actually was, but he made the effort to respect me—like my father. Plus, he didn't allow me to get away with airs and unlike my father he can say "no" to me.

Then there is Captain Picard, who taught me about being mentally strong. When I came to the Enterprise, I was really just an immature child, who allowed her emotions to run amuck under the guise of being part Betazoid. Jean-Luc—I may call him this now in private—taught me through his deeds how to be strong. Strength is the ability to accept one's weaknesses and work within their limitations. Jean-Luc was tortured by the Cardassians and surgically altered and assimilated by the Borg—two experiences that would have broken most men. But we worked together and he showed me how he circumnavigated the minefield he was handedby addressing his strengths and weaknesses.

I've learned under his tutelage about my weaknesses and strengths. My strengths are the abilities to fulfill my duties, to accept challenges and take on new roles. The results were my promotions to commander and finally chief diplomatic officer. My weaknesses are my physical stature and my Betazoid heritage that is not understood by all societies. Jean-Luc had the patience that I needed to wait and allow me to grow in not only my emotional maturity, but also my mental abilities.

And then there is Worf, whom I still love. He taught me how to fight despite my small physical form for what I wanted. Going to his mak' bar class gave me the physical discipline to help me conquer my past fears while looking toward the future. Fighting is not so much about who is stronger rather who has the mental discipline to complete the battle with honor. Worf hates to loose, but what our relationship taught me was how not to cede when one believes that one has been defeated. Both physical and mental strength can be found where there is none to be seen.

When we broke up, we parted company for two reasons. First, Worf realized that I still love Wil; therefore, he was unwilling to share me with my Imzadi. Although Klingons may have multiple lovers, it is simpler not to have such relationships at the same time. Furthermore, such an arrangement favors the male instead of the female, who is expected to tolerate her mate's promiscuity but remain faithful.

Betazoids see multiple lovers pragmatically. A pre-phasing or phasing woman has a biological mandate that at times necessitates the need for multiple lovers. In ancient times, it was not uncommon for an established, mature woman to have two husbands. Today, this practice has been replaced by multiple lovers. Although this practice is accepted by many Betazoids, it is not the cultural norm of some species. I did not expect Worf to cede my wishes and knew that we would eventually break up.

Second, Worf had a religious calling that could not compete with any relationship at that time. I witnessed this first hand when the Kah'Les, who had been genetically cloned, appeared on the Enterprise D. Before Worf knew the truth, he was willing to follow his faith—without question. That is how deeply he believes. When we dated, we understood each other, because of Worf's religion, which has many similarities to Betazed religion. We both valued meditation; mental discipline and adherence to a code of conduct set down by our respective cultures.

When Worf told me of his desire to go on a pilgrimage to the Klingon Home World, I understood the depth of his devotion and could not hold him back even though I realized it would mean the end of our , I still love Worf and hold him dear in my heart. We had obtained something that Wil and I may never have: the Can'kti fom or sharing of spirituality, which is the understanding of the moral and ethic codes of our cultures at the spiritual levels. When Bah rin is reached by a couple in Can'kti fom, a pilgrimage is taken. Unfortunately, we are not of the same religion and we have had to take two different paths. Therefore, I lost my lover to his culture's religious mandates more than his inability to deal with my cultural edicts of love.

From these men I have learned my lessons. From these men I have learned to draw my strength from my inner being. Yet, despite the mentors in my life and having good self-esteem as a Daughter of the Fifth House, I falter at times and find it difficult to deal with what has thrown me, despite being a capable individual.

I often ask myself how should I deal with the Romulans, who stuck a knife in my back. Right now, I'm not coping very well. I can't find the strength and don't want to. There is too much anger inside of me for forgiveness. Until that anger resides, I can't make amends. Frankly, I don't want to. But to go on with my life, I must somehow find a way to forgive if I don't want this to eat me alive. I wish Worf were here. He'd know, which Book of Kah'les to read to me, and which mak'bar exercise to practice to get my life back into balance.

My Captain orders lights out. Before I nod off entirely, he orders me to keep silent about what happened in the shower between us, as if I would ever divulge what goes on between us. It's not as if Beverly were here and we could exchange top-secret girl talk. He says this in his most serious tone that it makes me giggle then laugh. The picture of scuttlebutt going round on the Titan is too much. Wil chuckles. Then he squeezes me tightly and places his hand on my bum, his favorite resting place.

Today, I hadn't the courage to call mother and tell her the news. She'll be so disappointed. When she found out I was pregnant, she immediately sent me a huge trunk of Fifth House antique baby clothes. It arrived last month, but I didn't have time to unpack it. It can wait until next time. As Dr. Ree still has three fertilized eggs from Wil and me, we can try again in a few months. I hope the next time it is a girl, but Dr. Ree won't say until it's born—a Pahkwa-thanth tradition. What is the Earth saying, "Never count your eggs before they're hatched." Very true!

My vision blurs and I'm almost out, but have a bad memory resurface that wakes me suddenly. I'm sitting at the helm of the Enterprise D. Data wraps his arms around me and holds me in position at the helm while I desperately try to helm a ship that is descending upon Veridian IV. I'm crying like a baby. But this time, it is different: I know we will land and be safe. Having felt me jump, Wil embraces me tightly. He sends me a beautiful image of us in the Jalaran tropical forest, enjoying the sunset. What a wonderful man he is to send such an endearing memory. I love him so. Right now he is my rock. At other times, I am his. I know Wil will wait until I am fully asleep before laying me on my side of the bed. In my second attempt to fall asleep, I don't fight the process nor do I allow tragic thoughts to enter my mind, because of the pleasant image Wil sent. I need this rest and am glad Dr. Ree gave us three days off. It will give us much needed time together. Tomorrow, I'll get Wil to make me chocolate pancakes after breakfast we can go swimming. . . .Zzzzzzzzzz


	2. Chapter 2

Along with some very thoughtful critiques, I received several requests to continue Wil's and Deanna's story. I've added conversation, but the story is still written in the first person. Enjoy and please post your comments—both good and bad!

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__Wil, this may be a false alarm, but I feel hostility at 9, 12, 2 and 5 o'clock. Nothing at 6 o'clock!_

_Acknowledged! Draw your weapon and fall back to the rear on my mark!_

"Riker to Titan! We've got a possible hostile situation on our hands. Be prepared to bean us up immediately upon reaching the Romulan beam out platform!"

"Aye, Captain!"

"Admiral Janeway, Capt. Picard, Commander Worf and Lt. Jackson assume security pattern Gamma Iota. Commander Vale, you're with me. Commander Troi and Lt. Keru bring up the rear! Phasers on stun! 125 meters to our destination! Step lively! Let's go!"

Phasers are drawn and the group begins a quickstep to the beam out platform upon hearing their orders. With their hosts 250 meters behind them on the lawn of the Romulan Senate's garden, the first shot is fired five meters before their goal.

Deanna sits back in her chair and howls, as the security vid plays out the attack. One-by-one members of the away team fall to the ground. In slow motion, she sees how she comes between an assailant and Wil, how she takes the shot meant for her husband and how she is blown five meters into the air by the disrupter, landing on Wil. Forced to watch the vid, Deanna's only choice is to sit and view what she doesn't want to see. With a contorted face, Deanna wails at Tuvoc, as she sees her left hand go up to touch the transporter pad.

"Deanna! You're dreaming! Wake-up, Imzadi!" I shout. My Admiral assumes the fetal position and cowers on her side of the bed. Cries escape her lips until she realizes that she is safe in her room with me by her side.

"1/8 lights!" I call as I slide over to my wife's side of the bed. Deanna's cries stop as suddenly as they started. Bewildered, I look at my Imzadi, who appears to still be sleeping if it wasn't for her eyes that remain open and stare off in the darkness. What I see shocks me to my core. I've only seen it a few times in the odd colleague. Deanna looks like she had seen a ghost. If Worf were here, he would say she made the trip to Stovekor and back. At that instant, I know Deanna's recovery is not about going to a therapist to talk about personal issues, but dealing with the experience that she had while looking death in the eye—an experience that she is having difficulty in articulating.

When I wed Deanna, I married a Betazoid and a Star Fleet officer. Star Fleet with its own rules and regulations of how to do things can be considered a culture of its own. It is the culture of Star Fleet that helps us to unify ourselves as a family unit. In our house, most issues are solved not based on the human or Betazoid standard, but on the rules and regulation of the Fleet or finding a happy medium that pleases us both.

Yet, there are times that an issue must be resolved using a person's established beliefs, which at times may have no logic at all or may be part of a religious opinion in opposition of current thinking or Fleet regulations. Looking at my wife, I feel in my gut that this is the issue. Something has happened to my Imzadi, which rationality cannot explain.

"Deanna? You awake?"

"Yes," comes an almost inaudible answer.

"Did you get hit by the phaser again?"

"Uhmm hmmm." This answer is followed by a few sniffles. I reach over and put my wife on my chest, positioning her the way she landed on me during the attack. Then I open the sky viewer above our bed. We can see the stars race by. After we make love, one of our favorite pastimes is to look at the stars from this position in our bed until we fall asleep or make love again. We are silent—each person deep in thought. I idly play with My Admiral's hair.

Finally, I speak. "In Betazed culture is there a form of heaven and hell?"

"Yes."

"Can you explain it to me?"

"It's really complicated. It'd take some time."

"I'll take the Cliff Notes version."

"The what?"

"Short form."

"Wil, there is no 'short form' in religion," my wife sits up and looks at me bewildered, while she wipes her nose with her hand, then she tugs at her SCC to pull it up even though it hasn't slipped out of place. I rub her back.

"I can tell you the short form of a dozen earth religions."

"Really?"

"Yes, want to hear it?"

"I'm listening."

"If you believe in the Creator and follow the rules, you go to heaven. If you don't believe in the Creator, you go hell. For those in between, there is purgatory or a second chance at life."

"That is really overly simplified, Wil."

"Maybe so, but I've got one foot in the door to heaven. I just need my wings and the key to the pearly gates to get in. With the exception of missing you, I'm not even too concerned about being called home early," Wil smiles at his wife.

"Why is that?"

"Like I said, because I believe." I give her my best smile like a Cheshire cat.

"Don't make fun of religion, Wil. The Creator doesn't have to let you into heaven."

"And why is that?" I sit up in bed to meet her gaze.

"Because. . ." my wife becomes inaudible

"Because what?" I ask. From the starlight, I can tell she is really struggling with her inner emotions. I pull her closer to me and cover her.

"Because. . . because you might think you are ready to go to heaven, doesn't mean you've met all the criteria."

"No, it stands black and white. I believe. I get in. The Creator can't turn me down."

"It's not that easy!" My Imzadi is really crying.

"Why isn't it that easy?" To this question, my wife gives no answer. She has lost her voice once again, and we have silence between us.

I lie back on the pillows and look at her. I wait a few minutes so that My Admiral can compose herself before asking my next question. Taking her face in my hands, I ask, "Imzadi, why are you having such a hard time dealing with this one incident? It's been over a year?" My hands wonder from her face to her shoulders, embracing my wife.

"They took something from me, and I'll never get it back," answered Deanna with vengeance in her voice while she jerks away from me. She goes to her end of the bed and pulls her knees to her chest.

"True, but they didn't take everything."

"I don't care. I hate them!"

"Can't you forgive them? Just this once!"

"I don't know how, nor do I want too."

"Just forgive them and let it go. That's what all religions say after you've been wronged" I place my hands on her shoulders.

"Why should I? Did the Romulans care what happened to us? Are the responsible parties in jail? Was there an inquisition? Why haven't they sent word that all who were involved were captured?" Deanna is almost yelling and her chest is heaving.

"Deanna, it's eating you up and starting to effect how you do your job! If it keeps up any longer, I'll have to relieve you of duty." With these words, my wife turns her back to me and is speechless. I don't know if my threat is ignored or is taken in earnest.

I continue, "Isn't your religion about forgiveness? Isn't that one of the pillars of your beliefs and what one of the Holy Rings of Betazoid stands for? They tell you what to do when things are bad!" I try desperately to find a solution to a problem, which I don't fully comprehend.

"It's not that simple."

"Then make me understand. What did I miss? What don't you have in this life that you can't go on?" I go to her and we both sit on the edge of the bed.

"My father's gone and I haven't seen him for over a year."

"Imzadi, you're father has been dead for over 40 years!" With these words, I know that I have made a mistake. My Admiral gets out of bed and sits by the main view window in our bedroom. She places her head against the window and simply cries. Suddenly, I realize my wife is having a religious crisis, which is something I am ill equipped to deal with.

I wasn't raised religiously as a child. My parents and later my father never took me to any religious service. We celebrated Christmas, but without really knowing the background story. When I asked if there was a God, my father kept it simply for me: be a good person and go to heaven. Later, at the Academy, I participated in the Intergalactic Religions Course, which outlined the most practiced religions of the Federation. That was my religious upbringing. My wife is correct: I really can't quantify everything down to a few rules, because my understanding of the rules is very rudimentary. For the love of Job, I hate seeing her cry like that. I'm in way over my head on this one and must somehow dig a hole to get out. I get out my handkerchief from my bathrobe pocket, cross the room and offer it to my wife, who takes it.

I change my tactic, because one thing I have learned from all my years in Star Fleet is to respect the religious beliefs of everyone, regardless if I believe in them or not. Therefore, I accept the fact that my Imzadi hasn't seen her father for a while. I believe in what she believes for the moment. "When was the last time you saw your father?"

"On the day I was shot. He said he would lead me to Betaha, but while we were on our way, he suddenly stopped. The next thing I remember is that he stood over us and told you to place your hand on my wound to stop the bleeding, which you did it. He asked me who you were and I said my commanding officer. Then I remembered I was talking to my father and not an officer. I told him you were my husband. Tahii replied that was nice. He kissed me on the forehead and told me to be brave. Before he left, he said to raise my hand so I could reach the transporter pad. Later, I woke up in sickbay. I haven't seen him since."

"Tahii?"

"It means beloved father in Betazed."

"I see. How often does he come by?"

"Whenever I'm really sad. When I lost our baby, I thought he'd come by to visit me, but he didn't. He's usually right there whenever something happens. I go in the shower and he's right there. Or he comes to my office."

"He's been protecting you hasn't he?"

"Yes, always."

"Have you lost your faith in him? That he can't protect you anymore?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's upset at me for being so angry with the Romulans. That's why he probably stopped my journey to Betaha. Maybe I have angered his spirit."

"Betaha? Oh, yes. Heaven. I have a question for you?"

"What?"

"Are you sure that you aren't upset with the Goddess, because she decided not to take you?"

"No."

"Do you remember the Nexus?"

"Yes."

"Do you try to forget it? Or do you think about?"

"My whole family was there, including older sister, father and grandparents. I think about it from time to time. It makes me really happy, but I know I can't go back."

"And Betaha? Were you afraid to go there with your father?"

"No, I was really calm, but at the same time I was upset with the Romulans."

"Did you break a rule?"

"I'm not sure."

"Why not?"

"Because I was angry at that moment and not my whole life. That is what should have counted—my whole life. I never thought the Goddesses would have been that petty."

"Is that why you're angry at the Romulans?"

"Yes, they kept me from Betaha. Now my father doesn't visit me. Plus, they have made it next to impossible for me to conceive and carry a child. Now, I'm full of hate and anger. I wasn't like this before the accident." Realizing that my wife spoke the truth, we are quiet for some time.

"Admiral Troi, permission to speak freely."

"So long as you don't make a jack ass out of yourself," shot back my wife with irritation in her voice.

With that comment, I really had to hold back a snicker, because a) the wife rarely uses a course word and b) she probably knows what I'm about to say. True, I could hit her below the belt and say something like, _"This is an example of when shitty things happen to good people. Some people have it in spades while you've only been touched a little. It's called a trail and you're failing miserably. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, because worse can happen."_ But I don't; this isn't about feeling sorry for her self. It's about her religious beliefs; it's about finding contentment with what she has experienced. I change tactics once again.

I go and sit next to my wife. Her hair is clinging to her face and the window is smudged from her tears. I pull the hair out of Deanna's face and place it behind her ear. Then I rub my nose against hers.

"What does that mean?"

"Unlike you who have a sound religious upbringing, it's all that I have left of my people's traditions."

"Which people?"

"On my mother's side of the family, I'm a descendent of the Athabascom Indigenous People of Tanacross, Alaska. We call ourselves the Daendeh. That's why my hair is so bushy. I get my eyes from my father's side of the family. They migrated from Germany to the United States during the Alaskan gold rush, so von Reicher became Riker. In the beginning, the Indigenous and immigrant populations had very little to do with each other, but a few centuries later, we are a mixed bag of treats. One's origins really doesn't matter. Yet, there are certain traditions that still remain. The nose greeting was done to say hello when a husband came home from the hunt. Mothers would rub their children's noses as a form of maternal contact. Children would also greet each other and their siblings with a nose rub."

"That's very logical. Plus, with all the fur, a hug would be near impossible."

"Yes, that is very true." I realize I have her attention. She's not crying anymore to my relief. I continue, "When I was a toddler, my mother took me on the Great Trek. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes, your cousin wrote me about it. After World War III on earth, many major cities were destroyed. Fairbanks had a gas pipeline and was bombed. Not many people were left alive. It was decided to make the trek to Barrowville, where there was little pollution from fallout. There's a reenactment of the Great Trek every 25 years by the descendents"

"Barrow. It's in the Artic Circle. Now, mind you most people at that time were city dwellers and technology was advanced. Only a few elders knew about hunting and trapping. My Nanna got lost in a storm and couldn't find her way back."

"What's a Nanna?"

"My grandmother."

"Oh a latahii. What did she do?"

"Well, the elders had given her a totem. It was a caribou. In a dream, her totem told her where to find the herd. Nanna followed this advice. After a few days, she caught up with the group again. Thanks to her totem."

"Did she loose her totem?"

"Yes, she did. Nanna went to the elders and asked why. The shaman responded that she had found her way and that her totem was free to wander the steps."

"Did her totem come back later?"

"I read her diaries and Nanna never mentioned seeing it again although she believed in it greatly." Deanna takes this time to think about what I have said.

"Why would father leave me at a time like this? I need him so." A big tear splashes down her left check and falls on her breast.

"There is your mother's religion and your father's religion. Look to them and maybe you will find the answer. What did your father believe?"

My Imzadi's eyes grow wide and her forehead wrinkles up. "It's complicated."

"Cliff Notes, please."

My wife looks about as if someone would get her for telling a secret. "Mother had a difficult time accepting some of the things father believed in. He only told me a little."

"Where's he from?"

"From the town of New Murinduko, the Central Province in the Highlands of Kenya in the United Federation of African States. Father went to school in New Mindi, Kenya and later to the Academy in Old Johannesburg, South Africa. He's the descendant of rice farmers who immigrated to Kenya from Romania before WWIII. They married with the locals. I think his people are the Kamba, but he doesn't look like one, because of all the intermarriage."

"What did he tell you that your mother is so riled up about?"

"Everything has a life: people, animals, and even the houses where we live. We should respect all life. That spirits walk with us and guide us. That we should respect the spirit world and show it reverence. . ." her voice trails off.

"Anything else?"

"I don't remember much. He died when I was so young. I didn't dare ask mother to talk about it. I did write my cousins on Earth about it, but they just laughed and said those were old silly ways and that no one thought like that anymore."

"Deanna, do you think they are silly?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because my father walks with me. He is part of who I am—part of our shared cultural identity."

"Can Betazoid religion explain his presence?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I'm mentally ill, but I'm not."

"You've kept this from your mother?"

"Yes."

"WOW! What a hat trick! You must be very disciplined to pull that off."

"Thank you for not thinking I'm mentally disturbed?" There is silence for a while. My wife is trembling, so I embrace her tightly.

"Well my Nanna seeing that caribou made a believer out of me. So now, you have a problem, because you've got two opposing religions and one missing father."

"That is a fair explanation of matters."

"Your Betazoid side says to forgive and get into heaven, while your Kamba side is the warrior who wants to avenge you."

"Yes, so my father can visit with me again."

"At issue here is how do you forgive, how do you avenge and how do you find your totem again? You want inner peace and a good night's sleep without feeling tortured all the time?"

"You do understand!"

"I may not understand all the rules, but the concepts are universal." With that I lead my Imzadi back to our bed. I rearrange her on top of me—spread eagle so she can look at the view.

"Can I say something?"

"Yes."

"Maybe the answer is standing right in front of your nose."

"What do you mean?"

"You said your father came to us and told us what to do in order to save the crew and ourselves."

"Yes."

"Then you told your father who I was."

"Yes."

"Maybe your father realized that you had someone to love and look after you. He went because he knew not only that I could take care of you, but also you could take care of me. Why else would you throw yourself between my assailant and me."

"But why didn't he come yesterday?"

"Because he knew that although you and I are both sad, it wasn't the same as being lost in the Arctic. We've got three more chances at happiness and if that fails, we can always adopt. There are plenty of kids in this universe who would appreciate a good home."

"You wouldn't mind adopting?"

"No. Plus, I'm tired of looking like Santa Claus and I hate seeing you unhappy." My Admiral takes this in and minutes pass by.

"I'm still angry."

"Our greatest fears occurred while on duty. Stop letting this fear haunt you. You've lived through it. Plus, it's in the past now. You've been stunned by phasers, but never hurt seriously. Now, this is a reality. Think of it like this. When the Enterprise D went down, you cried like a baby at the helm. Data held you in your place, so you could pilot. Five years later, Jean-Luc ordered you to plow into the Schimitar and you didn't bat an eye. No tears, just an officer doing her duty. Were you angry at the Captain or me for doing our jobs and placing you in danger?"

"No."

"Are you angry at yourself for taking the shot meant for me?"

"No."

"How should you view the attack?"

"It was a foolish attempt by the politically disenfranchised to change the course of their planet's history. We had the unfortunate luck of being caught in the middle while doing our jobs."

"Excellent! Now follow the rules of the Betazoid tradition and forgive. You'll get into heaven quicker that way."

"What about my Tahii?"

"What will you do if he comes back? Give him a piece of your mind like your mother would? Your totem deserves better than that."

"I'd tell him that I love and miss him. I asked him to please visit me more often."

"Great! Rule number two: respect the spirit world, Imzadi. So what if he doesn't come back."

"I'll cry in the shower."

"Why are you in this position, Deanna Troi?"

"I surmise that you want me to face up to everything."

"That is very true. What else?"

"I don't know."

I smile at her, "Show me how you saved us all." My Imzadi looks up to the sky viewer that shows our reflection and lifts her left hand above her head, touching the headboard of the bed like it was the transporter platform.

My face is inches from hers. I rub my nose against hers. "Save yourself Deanna Troi like you did your crewmates. You did it once; you can do it again. It's within you to do so. You've more than a nose rub and a spotty religious dictate to help you out. Don't be afraid to use the tools that are at your disposal." She takes this in without replying. After some time, her eyes begin to flutter. I place My Admiral on her side of the bed and cover her up.

"Imzadi?"

"Yes?"

"I'll try to forgive the Romulans, but it won't happened overnight."

"Brahim, Imzadi."

"Imzadi?"

"Yah,"

"You'd really release me of duty?"

"Hell, yes!" At my answer, my wife looks most embarrassed.

"I have—"

"—a duty to the ship!" we say in unison. A few minutes pass.

"Imzadi?"

"Yes?"

"Who's Santa Claus?"

"Cliff Notes or long version?"

With this my wife laughs and curls up to go to sleep. It's 02:00 when Deanna's eyes flutter shut for the third time.

* * *

I pull the comforter over myself and turn on my side to watch my wife. I smile at myself as she slumbers. My Admiral surprises me often. I never really took her for an extremely religious person like her mother, who insisted that Betazoid material ceremony be followed to the letter of law. Our wedding lasted three days, because religious and cultural traditions had to be observed. Deanna took this all in stride, while I was just baffled and happy to get through most of the ceremonies without a major mistake.

And her ancestors on her father's side are Kamba warriors. Geordi is also from the African Federation and has often told me of the War of Independence fought by the African Federation to free the continent from European and Asian dominance. One of the fiercest groups was the Kenyans. Suffice it to say that the continent reclaimed its heritage after War War III. No wonder my Imzadi has fight in her! It's hidden in her genes. I wonder if my mother-in-law knew of this when she married Ian Andrew.

Ian Andrew is a ghost. All I can say is, "Yikes!" I think I'd be terrified if something like that happened to me. Had my mother appeared, hell, I don't know what I would have done. I wouldn't be acting normal about it that is certain. It's funny. I've never really dreamt about my mother nor do I have any memories of us being together. Was I really in diapers like my father said? I could have sworn that I was at least four or five when she died. I remember how she cried all the time; how dad was never there. Or did I just make all these things up because I wanted a mother so bad as a child, because my father wasn't there for me? And my Imzadi? I'm not saying that Deanna is making her father up—just that she might have also wanted to have a father. I guess a ghost dad is good to have, sort of like an imaginary friend to talk to.

I smile at myself as I remember My Admiral's question. "Who's Santa Claus?" she asks me. Well, he's this person who loves children. He's this imaginary friend of parents who brings little children gifts at Christmas. Most parents use him as a discipline tool while yelling, "Be good or else Santa won't come!" As kids get older, either other kids tell them there is no Santa Claus or they find out the truth by observation. When the truth is found out, talk about tears! It's like parents break a cardinal rule and lie to their kids. But parents do it so their children can be happy, for the short span of their childhoods.

Being happy. I guess that is why my parents didn't raise me religiously. They thought less was more. But is that right? Have I missed something? Deanna has her religious traditions. She seams perfectly content until now. If it hadn't been for the Intergalactic Religions Course, I would have never known why we celebrated Christmas. It was fascinating to find out that Jesus is recognized and is celebrated in dozens of different religions. In some religions he died young at 33 years old while in other religions he reached the grand age of 120—very old considering there was no Starfleet Medical. I should hope to live so long. But some how, despite this tragedy, I know I can find my happiness again. Thank the Creator for small miracles. As for my Imzadi, she will find her own path. I'm sure of it. She believes so much.

I turn over to watch my wife sleep and absently play with a stray hair on the pillow. My Admiral looks more content, as I sit up to watch her. Why can't I sleep right now? Man, I hate insomnia, because I look so haggard the next day. Plus, Counselor Troi can see right through me. I want to bring her over to my side, but she hates to be cold and I hate to be too hot. Plus, she just got to sleep.

I slip out the bed and put my uniform on. I know I'm off duty, but what the hell! It's the only thing I know how to do when I'm under stress—work some more. I guess this is where men and women are different. Men have a dozen different ways to put things out of their minds and not think about a topic. Women think. Take getting hit by a phaser. Most men take it in their stride. Women are a bit different. They think about it and understand fully what it means. I guess that is why women security officers have a better record of survival when it comes to getting phaser tagged. They think.

It is this thinking that Deanna is doing. Now, I love my wife and take her experiences very serious, but I wish she could be a man right now and put her experience aside and not think. Nice and neat in a little box. Deal with it say in two years! I laugh at myself, because my wife's office is full of such people! I kiss my Imzadi on the forehead, watch her smile—I have to give her a kiss good-bye no sneaking out, don't ask me how she stays sleeping—and slip out into the corridor.

Lt. Keru passes me on my way to the bridge and acknowledges me. No sooner is he around the corner, and then I hear, "Keru to Bridge! Captain Riker is on his way!" I must speak privately with Keru when I want to go on walk about. Part of knowing what is actually going on aboard ship is being able to make a surprise appearance. Funny, I haven't spoken privately to Keru since his lover passed away. Now, there is the exception to the rule. Keru mourned Hawk's death for ages. No putting things in the box there. Maybe I could learn a few things from him.

I step on the bridge to find Tuvok on duty.

"Good evening captain. Logic would dictate that I give you a status report, but as you are on sick leave, I must decline."

"Can I at least go to my ready room?"

"As you wish, it is your ready room, Captain." Tuvok informs me with a raise of an eyebrow.

"I'll just go and look at the view. As you were." I slip into my office and sit at my desk. It is piled high with PADDs. I sort and delegate. The door chimes; Lt. Keru comes in.

"I'm off duty. Lt. Tuvok is the commanding officer." Keru doesn't say a word, just slips a half dozen PADDs with the day's reports on my desk. I read the top one quickly, relieved that everything is running efficiently in my absence. I give him a stack of PADDs and he turns silently to leave.

"Lt. Keru!"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Thank you!" Three hours later I slip out of my ready room, giving Tuvok the finished PADDs.

"Captain, I surmise the view was pleasing?" inquires Tuvok.

"Very much so!"

"The logical thing to do now would be to go home and rest after such an enjoyable recreational period. Naturally, my report will say that I did not see you this morning."

"That is falsifying records, Tuvok." I smile broadly with a glint in my eye while heading for the door.

Before I have a chance to leave, Tuvok replies, "Actually, I thought it was a good joke." The crew chuckles, as I wave good-bye to Tuvok.

Once home, I slip out of my uniform and get into bed. I kiss my girl, who smiles in her sleep. When I reach that dreamy state before falling asleep, I see Ian Andrew. He salutes me. As he turns to leave, his daughter Kestra is standing next to my Nanna, who speaks, "Don't you have something to tell your brother-in-law, child?" She blows on a muktok flower. The seeds take flight on the cool evening air and scatter like the stars while a warm melody plays.

She says to me, "Your daughter will fall from the heavens." The muktok seedlings form the stars and the sky. From the horizon, a Kamba warrior with a spear in his left hand and a small calf on his right arm runs after the caribou, which race by as I fall asleep. My last thoughts are I can't forget what I just saw and heard; I must tell my Imzadi of such an important message. She'd be able to interpret them better than I.

* * *

Will's snoring wakes me up. He really has to get his anodes checked again. Although he only snores when he is extremely tired, the condition could be dangerous especially when on an away mission. Poor Imzadi, he's so tired right now both physically and emotionally**.** I hope I won't wake him. Nonetheless, it's time to turn my flapjack. As much as I love my husband, his side of the bed is cold at 17C°. Sighing, I leave the warmth and scoot over to him and press my body against him to stay warm. My presence makes him turn and the snoring stops.

Upon making contact with Wil, tears well up in my eyes when I think of loosing our baby. I feel how my Imzadi automatically pulls me into his embrace. We lie together like spoons. My chest and abdomen ache as a constant reminder. I hyperventilate, but stop the oncoming attack, not wanting to wake Wil. I try not to think of our loss and begin to concentrate on our last conversation. Stealing the covers from my husband to keep warm, I look at My Captain, who's sleeping soundly. His crumbled uniform is on the chair by his bed, telling me that he has been up and about the ship. Why does this man choose to work when he is feeling miserable? I can't figure that one out. What a silly girl, I am! Yes, I can. It is his coping mechanism. He works; I meditate.

Right now, we are emotional wrecks, especially me. Since the hormone treatments, which took their toll on both of us and the loss of our child, my emotional pendulum has been swinging back and forth. If the truth were told, I can barely put up with myself. If my grandfather were here he'd call me a weeping, pouting, petulant child, who really needs a good smack on the bum in accordance with ancient traditional Betazed pedagogy.

If Wil takes me off duty, it will be justified. I'm that impossible to work with now. It's a good thing that Dr. Ree grounded us for three days. I'd have taken a fortnight if given it. Poor Wil must put up with the likes of me and endure as best he can. Plus, he has to listen to me chatter on about Betazoid tradition and my father.

Oh, Tahii, I miss you so. I've never told anyone about father visiting me. Not even Tuvok, who councils me. I've kept my secret buried from prying minds of Betazoids for so long that I have never really thought about the negative effect it would have on me. But really, whom would I tell? Who would believe me that my father comes for a visit when I am depressed? The subject makes most Betazoids uncomfortable or it makes them behave like my mother, who accused me of trying to raise the dead when I asked her if such things were possible. I'm not mentally ill; I'm gifted with visions. Is that such a wrong thing to be when one is blessed with such a wonderful talent?

I am so happy that at least Wil believes me when it comes to these visions. Sometimes, I wish I were more like him: pragmatic, emotions in check and extremely brave. I could go so much farther and be so much more if it weren't for my Betazoid emotions getting in the way. Yet, I do cherish my empathy, which makes me unique as a person. I also value my many accomplishments. I just wished my empathy didn't race out of control at times or wish I were fully human to get around it like my father. Oh, my Tahii! Where are you, my beloved? You've helped me so over the years.

When Ian died, my father appeared right by my bed and stayed the night with me. Then there is the destruction of the Enterprise D. When Tahii appeared, he gave me a tour of his ship, the USS New Indianapolis 1916 C. He explained to me how happy he was with his life. Tahii was lieutenant commander and second in command under Captain Micheala Prince when he passed away. The Indianapolis was on a diplomatic mission to Pan' Tang 6 when it was caught in the cross fire of the two opposing fractions. Tahii had bridge duty and was struck down after a Pan Tangen torpedo breached the hull. He died instantly.

Slipping out of bed, I go to my wardrobe and open the door. An intricately carved wooden hope chest, made of coffee tree wood stands before me. My father, as a teenage, made it for his mother in woodworking class. Captain Prince gave it to me when she returned Tahii's body to Betazed. I push on its handle and a footstool unfolds while the chest opens. I take out the holograph of the Indianapolis and sit down. The 40-year-old holograph, which was a gift from my father, flickers. It has broken several times over the years, but Geordi fixed it. Later, he taught me how to make the repairs. He was surprised that I had such a toy and pulled out his entire collection to show me. He didn't have the Indianapolis and was a bit put out when I wouldn't sell it to him. When his mother was declared MIA, I lent it to him for a while. He understood the symbolism of it.

Although I have a holograph of my father's ship, I never looked at the schematics or visited when I was a young girl, because the ship was posted far from Betazed. To be honest, I didn't really have an interest in space ships as a young child. It wasn't until I took my command test that I actually thought about ship design. When father came to me after the D crashed and showed me his ship, I made sketches of it. Later, I called up Fleet records to check their accuracy. My memory was spot on.

Not only did Tahii give me a tour of his ship, but also told me how he died. He knew I had a fear of dying while on duty in the same ghastly way that he had died. He didn't want me to be afraid of death or doubt that I could fulfill my duties while under fire. After that I wasn't afraid of dying anymore, because I knew that someone close to me understood the career choices I have made and why I have taken chances. This experience even bounded me stronger with my father.

Despite knowing what my father tried to show me, I am afraid and full of self-doubt. I can't seem to get past _That Day_. I'm so afraid it will happen again. That Wil and I won't come out so lucky. I'm not afraid of the journey to Betaha. It's just. . .it's just that I don't think I have the strength to recover again. I'm tired and I don't know why I'm so tired. I'm like Worf: we both wish for a quick and painless warrior's death—just don't let us suffer, because we can't take it. I hate how being an invalid makes me feel weak and useless. Just look at me when I lost my empathy! Talk about crybaby and all around bitch! Tahii was so lucky! He died a warrior's death.

Now, Tahii is gone and I am left to ponder the reason why. The pain of my father's loss hurts so much that I feel that I am being pressed against the wall during the implosion of the Enterprise E while under fire by the Shimitar. Yet, right now I must accept the reality that my father has completed his journey to Betaha. He's put his affairs in order, so that he can move on. I should be happy for him, not selfish by wanting him to stay with me here. Wil was right. I should respect the spirit world. I should forgive and move on like Tahii.

Placing the holograph back into the chest, I find the prized digital pictures of my family that Mr. Homm sent me. After the Battle of Betazed and the Troi family mansion was ransacked by the Jem Hadar and Cardassians, Mr. Homm found the pictures among some of my father's belongings, which had been stored in our family's disaster sheltor. Kestra has her hands full holding onto me while my parents look down on us in adulation. Clicking the forward button on the frame, the picture changes to my mother holding me as an infant. The script proudly says that Kestra made the picture on my Mahaii celebration or welcoming ceremony. Tears flow again. It's just mother and I now.

No, I scream at myself. It's not over 40 years ago, when mother and I only had each other. It's mother, my brother Briam, Wil and I. It's not just mother and I. There is a new reality. This, I must accept. We can get through this. Looking at my husband, I wonder why it has taken me so long to come to this realization. I'm suddenly somewhat elated and want to call my mother to acknowledge this newfound point, but I don't wish to wake Wil. It wouldn't be fair to him if we didn't call together for he really cares for my mother and brother. It's not I; it's we. We will heal and we must find a way. I place the picture frame on my nightstand.

Despite this revelation, my tears have not ceased. Father hated when I cried. He'd give me anything just for me to stop. Mother hated when father gave in to my whims and pointed out that it made me impossible to discipline. Rummaging through my chest, I find my Fabergé chocolate eggs given to me by Captain Picard for my birthday last year. Of the 50 imperial eggs, 43 are left in a self-cooled box. I pick the Lillies of the Valley egg in remembrance of my father.

Not thinking, I pop the whole egg into my mouth and choke. The decoration falls off while the cream filling oozes out. I curse at myself. The ruddy thing is 10 cm high with a diameter 6 cm! It's not like I can just stuff it into my mouth in one whole piece. This makes me smile. Taking out my small hand torch, I search for the assorted decorations on the floor while stuffing the bits into my mouth. I chew slowly enjoying the rest of my egg. Resisting the urge to take another one, I return the box to my chest. I'm no longer crying and smell of chocolate with the evidence on my face and SSC. I spy another nut on the floor and pop it into my mouth.

Tonight, I've taken the first step in healing by acknowledging the reality in which Wil and I are living. I know I've depended on my father to be there for me, but my instinct tells me it is now time to move on. Yet, How can I when I am at such odds with myself. I don't know what to believe anymore or how to find my faith again. I was bought up in the Betazoid religion, but my father showed me his religion even though it was very briefly. How can my soul be at such odds? How is it that what I believe is not a comfort to me now? Why do I feel that a part of me has died, because my father is no longer here?

Part of me wants to forgive, but part of me wants revenge. I'm so angry that I want to strike out at those who are responsible for they have hindered me in the preservation of my house and securing the next generation for my family.

Wil is correct that I must find a solution among my religions. Part of me doesn't want to solve my dilemma, because that would mean contacting our high priestess and relaying the information to her. On the other hand, I want to preserve and protect the memory of my father for that is what he has done for me over the years—looked after me from the spirit world. I owe him that much that his culture and religious beliefs are handed on just like my mother's. Before I go to bed, I click to the picture of Kestra, my father and me. I place the digital picture frame on my nightstand. Now cold, I slither back into our bed on Wil's side, stealing the covers from him. My Captain lazily puts an arm around me.

I think about Tahii, who wasn't perfect. Had he asked mother about getting a Betazoid kitten she would have told him straight off that the animals had a high telepathic frequency. My kitten Vashtii, named after a favorite aunt on my father's aide, would broadcast on such a high frequency as to get on a gifted telepath's nerves. It was really an intolerable situation for mother and grandfather. Yet, I did love my father for bringing me a playmate that was ever so cute. Maybe, I'll get one on my next leave home.

My eyes begin to flutter and I fight sleep while thinking about the Romulans. It will take a lot of praying, meditating and mak' bah class before I forgive them. I know I have to let go and a year is a long time to hold a grudge. I'm going to take small steps, so peace can once again reign in our house. Forgiving the Romulans is going to be an ongoing battle, but I know I can do it even it is not now.

As for myself, I need to take responsibility for my actions, too. I'm so glad My Captain held his tongue and didn't give me a lecture about feeling sorry for myself or that others have experienced worse. This I know. If he had done so, he would be sleeping on the couch after a knock-out-drag-out fight. But he didn't. He told me a wonderful story about his grandmother, which validated my beliefs and experience. He's earned a gold star and gets to pick out something kinky for me to do on our next holiday.

Gosh, his side of the bed feels pretty good. I'm so glad our bed is what Wil calls the California king size bed. California is a large state, but why isn't it called Alaska king size bed? After all Alaska is bigger than California. My mind is wondering, because I am fatigued. I realize I'm still on the Wil's side of the bed. My skin is itchy and my vision blurs. The pain increases and I can feel a fever coming on. Something in my mind tells me to get up, go to the toilet, drink some water and eat, because I haven't done these things in a while. Prier to taking action, a chill hits me and I begin to loose consciousness. Aside from the effects of loosing our child, I think something is extremely wrong with me. Before I can wake Wil, I slip into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

It's Carnival and I've little time to write. This chapter wonders a bit, but has lots of dialogue among the characters. The converation is still for adults, but not racey. I'm writing as ideas come to me, so please be patient. I love to hear critique, as to improve my writing. I've taken to writing in the present tense, so please bear with me.

* * *

Twack! Crack! Wil Riker shot up in his bed, wide-awake from a deafening sound, as lights suddenly go on over his bed. He looks about somewhat confused and automatically, contacts the bridge, "Riker to bridge. Report—"

"Captain, that won't be necessary!" This is meant by another deafening crack, as Dr. Ree walks into the bedroom. Riker stares at Dr. Ree with disbelief. The Pahkwa-thanh bursts right through his doorframe! Upon impact, the frame lies crumbled to the ground with little resistance, leaving the shape of the reptile: tail, stomach and head are clearly visible.

Unsuspecting, Vale gives her report, "We are traveling on impulse power, while engineering runs a level one dynastic. Stellar cartography is charting section 12 of Romulan space and has found little of interest. Lt. Upton Lee-Wong delivered triplets last night: two girls and a boy. All are doing well. Captain William Riker and Commander Deanna Troi were put on sick leave for three-days—"

"Ree to Commander Vale."

"Commander Vale here. Sir what can I do for you?"

"Repeat that last sentence, please," The command comes out of Ree with the emphasis on the s, so that it sounds like a snake hissing at its prey.

"Captain William Riker and Commander Deanna Troi were put on sick leave for three-days."

"And what are you doing?" Ree's voice has lost its friendly overture.

"About to inform the captain that he should be resting."

"To make my position clear on this issue, both Captain Riker and Commander Troi are on sick leave until I say otherwise."

"Aye, Dr. Ree! Captain Riker, get well soon! Vale out!" The first officer sits in the captain's chair red-faced, as the rest of the crew looks at her. Damn it to hell for wanting to do the job correctly. She'd have to speak with Riker privately to circumnavigate an overzealous medical officer.

"Ree, what the hell are you doing in here!"

"Get out of that bed right now!"

"Ree, you come busting in here like a bat out of hell!"

"Look at your wife! Is she awake? Has she moved one bit? Get out of that bed, so I can get to my patient or I'll use force." Ree's teeth smacks together making a menacing sound.

Riker looks down at his wife who commandeers all the covers. He feels a tingling sensation on his leg. "Oh, shit! Imzadi, wake up! What's gotten into you?" Riker jumps out of the bed. Dr. Ree pushes him aside and moves Deanna closer to the left side of the bed to examine her.

"Serves you right!"

"She just peed on my leg!"

"She's ill! What did you expect? Give me 100 set-ups and 100 push-ups."

Taking the end of the top sheet, Riker dries his leg off and asks irritably, "What have I done?"

"For the 100 set-ups, you did not follow my order that were given two years ago to increase the door width by 40cm in the sleeping quarters to accommodate ALL species on your space ship. Second, you failed to follow orders to report to sickbay at 09:00 after practically begging me to allow your wife to go home. It's now 11:00!!! Thus, you get 100 push-ups! On the ground captain before I lose my temper!"

Riker drops to the floor. Without saying a word, he starts on his push-ups.

"Your wife has just suffered from a miscarriage along with complications. She has had an allergic reaction to the anti-lactation medication that was given to her. For some unknown reason Commander Troi has suffered blood lose, as it is not clouting properly."

"Oh, Lord no!" Riker squawks between coming up off the ground.

"I'm glad you're concerned," states Ree as he monitors Troi with a tricorder and administers a hypo. "Furthermore, this was combined with not eating a nutritious meal nor drinking the prescribed amount fluids, giving her a kidney infection. Or do you call a chocolate truffle with Betazoid gew-gew nuts and chili-cherry-chocolate liquor filling a meal?"

"When did she eat that?"

"Obviously, when you failed to make her a proper meal!" retorts the doctor as he throws the chocolate stained SCC onto the ground for emphasis. Wil can only puff loudly in response.

"Now, this is what I am willing to do for you."

"I'm all ears, Doc," grunts Wil.

"Doc?"

"-ter Ree," adds the Captain.

"After your morning calisthenics you are to go down to hydroponics and bring back the prescribed foods."

"Prescribed foods?"

"I gave you a PADD with a menu, yesterday."

"Menu—"

"Where's the PADD?"

"On my desk. I thought it was a departmental report."

Ree looks at the stock piled desk and simply clucks his tongue as he returns to attending Troi.

"You will read and follow the instructions carefully. While you cook breakfast, I shall set up office in your living room. I'm putting Deanna on a kidney dialysis machine. The procedure takes two hours, but must only be done once a week."

"Understood." Riker turns over on his back and starts to do his set ups.

"That was only 30 push-ups."

"I haven't thrown in the towel yet, Doctor Ree." Sweat starts to appear on Wil's brow and a slight stench comes from his body.

"Glad to hear it. Now, for you, I'm convinced that your anodes must come out, because when I let myself in, you were snoring loader than a targ!"

"Dr. Ree! I don't have time for this shit!"

"Do I smell descent to my orders, Captain?" Ree sniffs the air like he is seeking out his prey for the hunt.

"Wouldn't think of it!" By this time, Riker is sweating profusely and grasping for air. He has now done 50 sit-ups and sit-ups; his stomach is killing him. He rolls over to do more push-ups and shakes like a bowl of jell-o as he turns. He watches out of the corner of his eye as the good doctor strips his Imzadi of the few pieces of clothing she wore and wraps everything up in the soiled bed linen, tossing the bundle onto the floor.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm in deep shit with Dr. Ree. How did it get like this, Imzadi? I'm trying my damnedest. I really am. Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. I should have cooked something, but I just was too depressed with the whole situation. I'm sorry I didn't read the instructions. I know how you hate being in sickbay and am supposed to keep you from returning. Some nurse I am, even Worf did better by Kaiko.

I think this is where I just shut up and do what I am told. Hell, Dr. Ree gives me the willies! You can sure see when he's mad, because he uses those choppers of his for influence. Stop it Wil! I really have to overcome my prejudiced of the dinosaur—reptile species. Rule number one! Respect him even if I fear him. Therefore, address him according to his species: Pahkwa-thanh. His full name is Dr. Shenti Yisec Eres Ree and he is the Chief Medical Officer of the Titan! He's very skilled and has already saved not only Deanna's life but also my life twice. Keep in mind Dr. Ree can release me of duty whenever he sees fit. So stop my cringing every time he smacks his teeth.

Second, return to the business at hand: I failed to follow orders. I said I'd get around to repairing the doors but never got around to carrying them out. Now, look at our home. Deanna's going to kill both of us when she wakes up. I just hope none of our wedding gifts were broken in the living room, because My Admiral will really have our heads. Knowing her, she probably put him up to it. Therefore, this is the price I have to pay. Or maybe not? Perhaps, an apology and a promise to repair the doors today might get me back into Ree's good graces. Okay, I'll get through these sets and lay on the charm if I don't die of a heart attack first! The Creator! Give me strength to live this one down!

"I apologize."

"Apology accepted. Now, breath through your nose when you come up and relax those stomach muscles before you give yourself a hernia!"

"Aye, sir." Riker does as he is told and finishes up his sets. He collapses on the floor, a huffing-puffing bowl of lard.

"Ah, 100 calories expended! Only 98,900 to go on the road to good health and weight reduction."

"You nasty bugger!"

"I got you into this situation by administering the hormone treatments; the least I can do is help you get out! It just wouldn't do to kindly ask you to step aside and do your calisthenics while I worked on your wife."

"You have a hell of a sense of humor!"

"We, Pahkwa-thanhs, pride ourselves on our humor. My wives and podmate would have been laughing their tails off upon my entrance into the room."

"Well, wake Deanna up! I want to see her response to the doors!"

"First, I'd like to put some clothes on her. Where's her pajama drawer?"

Riker points to the bureau in the corner. Ree lumbers gracefully over and picks out a two-piece satin pajama set with Wil's initials on it.

"How do you know that she will like that?

"It's in her drawer. You no longer have debs on it."

"Very observant."

"Now, Sir, you have the honor of giving her a bath. This here is a little invention I made myself after working with some Starfleet personnel in a Cardasian concentration camp. It's called a PET or precipitation emitter transformer."

"You don't say."

"Oh, yes. It was terribly debilitating: patients lying about in their own feces in pain and agony for days. The stench was enough to make the bravest of medical personal toss her cookies. My little PET takes moisture from the air, creates a self-contained sanitizing and cleansing shower, and then redistributes the moister into the air and dries the patient. It sanitizes wounds for dressing and can be used in temperatures from -100° C to 100° C, depending on the patient." Ree stroks the egg size instrument lovingly. Riker smilses and cocks his head, listening to the friendly chatter of the Pahkwa-thanh.

"So now for the bath: take it in your hand and position it over the good counselor. Press the button so that the machine turns on it's anti-gravity unit and positions itself over the patient. Then step back about 30 centimeters and let it do its magic." Riker follows Ree's instructions. An energy ray formed a bubble around Deanna as water begins to fall starting at her head. Three minutes later, the command, "Cycle complete," is heard as the bubble deactivates. Deanna's nude body, smelling of disinfectant, lies on the bed. Ree puts the egg in Wil's hand and stoops to dress his patient. When Troi is finished, he reaches into his medical kit and pulls out two silver bands that are kidney dialysis. He places the bands on her ankle and picks up Deanna. The bed linen under her is clean. Riker can only gap at the sight of Ree holding his wife. The scene reminds him of an ancient earth holofilm he once saw as a child.

"It does windows, walls and floors too after a particularly abusive or violent encounter with bodily fluids!" says the doctor, as he carries his patient into the living room. At that bit of information, Wil pulls a sour face. "So Captain Riker, where do you think she would like to awake or should we simply call for backup and tidy up the place? Our secret between men."

"I guess you got an invention for that too?!"

"No, I don't, but I am acquainted with Department of Housekeeping and Interior Maintenance and my boss gives excellent orders." The Pahkwa-thanh smiles showing his rows of teeth.

"Riker to HIM."

"Ensign Hill of HIM, what can I do for you sir?"

"I need the doorways repaired in my quarters ASAP."

"Aye, sir. A team will be up. Captain Riker?"

"Yes."

"You do know that I am under obligation to report this to Dr. Ree. Two years ago he gave explicit orders that all doorways on the ship be standardized. It was the responsibility of personnel to carry out his orders. He threatened stiff discipline action if he ever got caught in an entrance."

"Ensign Hill. I've been adequately dealt with for my delinquency."

"Aye, Sir. We're on our way!"

"I think the elongated wave chair would be most appropriate, as it will elevate her legs during dialysis." Riker leads the way into the living room, where Ree lays Troi on the wave chair and covers her with the comforter. Just at that minute, the door chime rings.

"Come!" barks Riker.

Ensign Hill along with three maintenance personnel stops in their tracks upon entering the room. She bursts into laughter and tries to contain her self while she looks at the damage.

"Something funny, ensign?!" asks Riker.

A shocked Hill replies, "I didn't think Dr. Ree had it in him! Taking liberties in the captain's quarters! By the glory of a pod mate, that's bold!"

"Oh, it's just a bit of a scratch. Don't tell Dr. Ra-Havreii or he'll think I have something against his ship design," chimes in Ree.

"Don't tell Dr. Ra-Havreii that his design was poor in terms of door ways—I'd never breath a word although we've been repairing entrances for the last two years! I'm not thinking of him right now. It's Commander Troi whom I'm afraid of! The Holy Rings of Betazed are missing and they're supposed to be over the entrance to the bedroom protecting these quarters!"

Ree and Riker look at each other and jump to find the rings.

"How long before she wakes up Doc?" Riker asks as he retrieves a ring from under the sofa.

"One hour 52 minutes!"

"Ensign Hill. You got that?"

"We're on it, Sir!"

* * *

I awake to the smells of breakfast cooking and the throaty laugh of Dr. Ree. In the background I hear the air purification fans turn off and smell fresh paint and lasered metal in the air. Something tells me that I'm not in bed, but in our living room. Hunger pangs force me to open my eyes, confirming what my senses tell me. I am welcomed by Dr. Ree, who sets the table with an exceptionally beautiful bouquet of flowers. I stretch lazily like a cat and turn over on my side to view what is going on in my quarters. I spy the entrance to our bedroom, which is noticeably wider. I look at the Holy Rings of Betazed above the doorway. They are framed in a cherry red box. Where the box came from I don't know, but it is beautiful, despite the rings not being in their proper order. Then it dawns on me! Wil hasn't fixed the entrances in our quarters. I try to hide underneath the thin blanket, as I am to blame. I have never gotten around to giving the orders to HIM; the task had just slipped down to the very last thing of an overly long to-do list.

I cover my head with the blanket and peer out at Dr. Ree and Wil. Both are working in the kitchen. I feel somewhat rested albeit sad. The pain in my sides is just a mere echo. I wonder why I am on the wave chair or why I don't have the need to go to the bathroom. When I bring my hand up to wipe my nose, I realize I'm wearing Wil's favorite pajamas that I've adopted. I take in their scent and realize I smell of disinfectant. My nose wrinkles in distaste, leaving me with a sinking suspicion, as I hear a chronometer go off. I look round to find, where the noise is coming from and discover the bands on my feet. With this discovery, I don't want to think—just run and hide.

It is so humiliating to wet the bed. I've had accidents no less than six times since losing my kidney. Every time this happens Dr. Ree brings out his beloved PET. I've got nothing against his invention except that a person stinks of disinfectant. For the love of the Goddesses, no woman wants to smell like the toilet bowl cleaner! I'm breathing heavily now, because the smell makes me really want to puke. At the same time, I'm rubbing my feet together, trying to get the kidney dialysis machine to turn off.

Upon hearing the chronometer, Dr. Ree's crouches down with his predator reflexes. We look at each other and upon eye contact the game is afoot. I duck under the covers while letting out a childlike screech, which turns into unsuppressed laughter. Dr. Ree reminds me of the Jem' Hadar, whom I am all too familiar with since the Battle for Betazed. His "shrouding" is our little joke between us. Unlike many people of the Titan, who are uneasy around him including my husband and numerous children on board the Titan, I liked Dr. Ree from the first day we met. We work professional very well together and often joke with each other.

We play a game: if I can shut off the dialysis machine with my feet before he gets to me, I get a piggyback ride. His predator reflexes allows him to cover the ten meters between the kitchen and the living room in seconds. I never have a chance, but it is fun to play. The game originated when there was an epidemic of Sandarian flu among the Titan children, who had unfounded fears about the Pahkwa-thanh. Dr. Ree thought out the game as a way for the children to take their medicine: if a child finished his cough syrup and half a liter of fluids before Ree returned to him on his rounds, he got a piggyback ride. As I was recovering in sickbay from the ambush, the children included me in this game.

"Deanna Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, inheritor of the Holly Rings of Betazed and the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, I'm pleased that you are awake now," Dr. Ree says in his good natured voice while digging under the blankets to find my foot. "What could be making such a racket?" I'm squealing like a child. Plus, my feet are ticklish. Naturally, I've lost our game, because the machine is still peeping. Holding up my foot like a prized belonging, the Pahkwa-thanhgracefully bows to me, turns the kidney dialysis off and packs them into his medical bag.

Wil is looking at us with amusement in his eyes. The table is set; breakfast is ready. Dr. Ree, ever the gentleman, offers me my robe. I stand only to be wobbly on my feet. Taking my arm, the good doctor assists me to the table, where he places a small stole under my feet and covers me with the comforter from the couch.

"What happened to our quarters? It stinks in here" I ask.

"Dare I say that you were delinquent in your interior decorating?" replies Ree with a glint of humor in his eye while eyeing Wil.

"I guess I must do 100 sit-ups and 100 push-ups when I'm well," I reply. My empathy tells me the two men before me are sharing in a common joke.

I breathe in the fresh scent of the flowers. Hating how I smell, I reach over the table and take several Princess Diana roses from the vase. The ivory roses with their soft pink and yellow blush are in full bloom. Their sweet scent makes me want to bathe in them, but this is not possible, so I run the blossoms over my face, shaking the pollen from the flower onto my face and neck. I end this ritual by taking a few pedals and rubbing them together to extract the oil. This I apply to my arms and behind my ears.

"Deanna, if you're finished bathing, please hit the gong so we can eat," quips my husband.

Having forgotten myself, I look up in embarrassment. Dr. Ree is sitting before a huge rack of meat, looking patient with his tongue somewhat out of his mouth while my husband downs his orange juice.

Without saying a prayer, I hit the traditional gong to start our meal.

"What no prayer?" ask my husband.

"Dr. Ree's is starving. There's noting worse than a hungry doctor. Didn't you ever see Beverly when she was famished how impatient she got?"

"Can't say that I have," replies my husband, as he watches Dr. Ree skillfully tear off a large piece of meat with his jaw, careful not to soil the table cloth with the English cooked joint on his plate. Wil swallows uneasily, having just lost his appetite. Dr. Ree eats as if no one is observing him.

I enjoy watching Wil being uncomfortable, but I am so famished that I start right into my breakfast of fresh fruit. I notice that Wil is having the same thing.

"No bacon and eggs this morning?" I ask.

"Nope, that's no longer on the menu for either of us."

"I'm not on a diet. Isn't that right, Dr. Ree?"

Ree swallows a rather large piece of roast (for lack of a good word) and speaks, "First, Commander Troi, when we are having a nice social breakfast, please call me Shenti—not to do so is considered rude in polite company."

"Yes, Sir."

"That is yes, Shenti. Would you mind when we are in closed quarters if I call you Deanna, Commander?" The Pahwith eyebrows go up and I laugh.

"Yes, Sir, you may call me Deanna."

"Thank you. I shall refrain from taking such liberties with your husband. It's the Captain's prerogative to be called captain all the time. Isn't that right captain?"

"It is," deadpans Wil, who still has not touched his food.

"I'm glad we see eye to eye, Captain. Second, you're both on diets for different reasons."

"What did I do, Sir?" I ask defensively.

"You got ill, madam; therefore, your body is experiencing a number of ill effects to my prescribed treatment. Instead of more medication, we'll try macrobiotics, which incorporates both earth and Betazoid principles of nutrition. Now, eat your breakfast."

"Is that an order, Sir, because I thought you just said we were having a social breakfast," I'm just a bit defensive.

"It can be, madam" Shenti says as another piece of meat is skillfully devoured. Wil looks like he is going to turn purple.

"Madam. No one calls me madam. People call my mother madam," I grumble feeling a bit old._ Dr. Ree or better Shenti should have stuck with Deanna I think to myself, because I really dislike when people call me madam. It's not like I am an elder like Mother._

"It is said with the utmost respect, madam."

I'm about to explode, but have a fit of giggles.

"She's extremely jovial this morning, Captain. Just wait until the medication is thoroughly absorbed in her system. She'll crash and you'll have your old weepy wife back once again," Shenti states humorously to my Imzadi.

"Really, is that why she's smirking like a school girl?" replies my husband, whose mode hasn't changed.

"Ikanon 23 has that effect on some patients. It's nothing to worry about. What's important is that your wife isn't in pain."

"Does she see a red door and want to paint it black?" inquires Wil.

"Oh, no, no, no, my dear Captain. I've got a reputation as physician to keep. I wouldn't dream of poorly prescribing medication. To do such, would be a cruel joke."

"I called you, 'Sir' while we are having a social breakfast," I state giggling.

"Madam, finally sees the joke!" Shenti winks at me and I resign myself to stop calling him, Sir. "Besides, you out rank me even when you are in my office. Calling me Sir is just a bit odd."

"It's a sign of respect!" I say. Yet, I do as I am told and finish the last of my fruit salad and look about for more, hoping that the salad wasn't the main course. Then I spot a glass of uttaberry juice; as there is nothing else on the table, I drink it. I notice Wil, who still hasn't touched anything except his orange juice. I give him a mental nudge.

_Wil, eat your breakfast._

_I can't!_

_What do you mean you can't? Don't be ridiculous. Do you realize how you are looking at him? This isn't the Andorian slave market! Really, put your silly prejudices aside._

_See that joint of meat he's eating_

_Yes._

_It was twice as big when he brought it in this morning. Half of it disappeared while it was being cooked. _

I can't hold it in anymore and just burst out laughing.

"Ah, communicating without me! May I ask what is so funny?"

I lie to My Captain's exasperated look. "Wil's upset because you put us both on a diet. He wants steak and eggs for breakfast or better what you're having now."

The Ree stops eating and wipes his mouth most elegantly with a Troi family napkin, which he places in his lap. "Captain, eat your fruit salad. There will be no sugary substances or empty calories such as chocolate pancakes with smiley faces smothered in chocolate syrup or high caloric intake such as steak and eggs for breakfast. I've taken the liberty and have gone through your rubbish and replicater bins; you're both going to pass away from heart attacks if you continue to eat the way you do!"

"You don't say," replies Wil uneasily, not being able to get past the blood on the oversized platter that the joint of meat is resting on.

"Do I smell descent again, Captain?" questions the doctor as he literally suckeds down another piece of meat without making a sound. His snout goes up again to smell the air.

I can only laugh at this instinctive reaction of Ree. Wil's nose flares out slightly in disgust. Once again, I try to humor my husband.

_Eat!_

_I've lost my appetite._

_You've eaten worse looking food on a Klingon Bird of Prey!_

_Ga is basically dead worms. A first grader could eat ga!_

_It's jest a joint of meat that's hasn't been cooked. _

_It's rare!_

_Bloody rare then! Stop your silliness. You're insulting our guest. As Admiral, I order you to eat your meal. _

_Are you cursing?_

_I'm hungry and want the next course. Eat your fruit salad, Captain! That's an order!_

_Leave me alone, woman!_

_That's an order! Or else!_

_Did I not just say to drop it, Deanna?_

_Or else, I'll tell him the truth._

_You wouldn't dare!_

_I'll tell him. Let the Goddess be my witness, Wil!_

_You know can be a bitch when you're ill!_

_**William Thomas Riker! Eat your bloody breakfast!**_

I shout at my husband using our link. The minute I do this; I'm immediately sorry, but giggle and give him the evil eye. Wil grabs his temple!

Upon seeing my husband in distress, I look about the table to find something to do in order to hide how irritated I am at my Imzadi. In my hunger, I break off a few rose pedals and eat them.

"Captain, your wife is eating the flower arrangement, which in her culture is a delicacy, but in your culture is scene as odd behavior. As I am a doctor on inter species behavioral patterns, I'd say she's ready for the second course. Yet, you haven't touched your meal."

"I've got a headache," grumbles Wil.

"It's a good thing I'm here then!" replies the Pahkwa-thanh. With the grace of a ballet dancer, Shenti places his knife and fork skillfully on the side of his platter and stands up to retrieve his tricorder, leaving his folded napkin on his chair.

I look after the doctor and laugh at Wil. Under my breath, I comment, "He's got excellent Earth manners." Wil stares me down. I ignore my husband's warning and go for the jugular.

"Shenti."

"Yes, Deanna?"

"Wil's lost his appetite."

"Well, I can see that."

"Your English roast put him off. You make him uncomfortable when you eat."

"It's a joint of fresh raque tacque meat. And I make my own mother uncomfortable when I eat!" says the good doctor. "She hates how I imitate humans at meals." This sends me into a fit of more laughter.

"Ah, just as I thought, my good Captain."

"Diagnosis?" Wil asks rubbing his temple.

"A nagging wife and low blood sugar!" Shenti says looking directly at me. I smirk and lower my eyes in embarrassment.

"If you two are going to argue, then simply speak to each other. Captain, you've a headache because you've once again over extended your telepathic abilities."

"Dr. Ree—Shenti, we weren't arguing!" I say defensively.

"Then why do both the cerebellum and the cerebral cortex show a high level of activity? You must have shouted at him to make his readings go off the chart." The doctor places a hypo against Wil's neck. "This should do the trick. Now, eat your fruit salad, Captain. Deanna is almost finished with the flower arrangement."

"It taste like oskoid,"I reply, rubbing the final pedal behind my ear without thinking.

Shenti returns to his seat. With one quick bite, he snaps the joint of raque tacque into two, downing the ends within seconds. Taking the platter in his hands, he drains the rest of the contents. The doctor's quick meal left a bloody mass of what appeared to be veins and gristle on his nose, which he licked away with his tongue before elegantly applying his napkin. My husband and I look on speechless.

Then I feel it in my stomach—the sudden queasiness. I put my hand over my mouth and breath deeply. If I toss my cookies, Wil will have ammunition for the next month. I look cautiously at my husband, who has a smirk on his face while watching my reaction. I try to fight a losing battle to keep the contents of my stomach down. I hurl my breakfast onto the table in the most unladylike fashion possible. I'm too weak and embarrassed to move and an almost inaudible, "Excuse me," slips past my lips. I can hear Wil chuckling at me. I look at him, as he puts a piece of fruit in his mouth.

The Pahkwa-thanh pulls his PET out of his pocket. Before he can use it, I bark, "I'll clean this up! Just give me a second!" Just thinking of the smell of disinfectant, makes me hurl again. Now, I'm really frightened. "Wil," I squeak. My husband is by my side. I hear the buzz of the PET. Between gritted teeth I shout again, "I said; I'll clean this up!"

"Deanna hates that thing. She says it smells like toilet bowl cleaner! You wouldn't have another setting? Say Princess Diana roses or Jahara Rain forest?"

"Well, she never said that she disliked the smell. Setting 137 is my personal favorite. I'm wounded! There are 237 settings of the most popular scents. Naturally, Ferengi Ever After has an exclusive patient and can't be copied. Please step back while I give Deanna a complimentary wash with a setting she likes—I hope these flowers aren't copyrighted!"

"You okay?" my husband asks me and winks while spooning his salad into his mouth.

"Yes, I'm just fine." I inspect the table, which shows no sign of my attack after the PET has done it's magic. Even the spots on the flower arrangements are gone. The scent of Princess Diana roses is even more intense. I sit in my chair with redden checks and sulk. I would look up, but my pride has been wounded.

Shenti places a new bowl of fruit in front of me. "Shall we try this once again, Deanna? I admire your constitution, but I must say that the 'snap' brings down the mightiest of warriors or perhaps you're reacting to your medication," the doctor reaches for his tricorder again.

Wil still has a smirk on his face as he finishes his salad. I give him the evil eye.

"What did I do to deserve that?" Wil asks defensively.

"One word of this gets out and so help me William Thomas Riker!"

"You should have seen your face! I guess you didn't read the full report on Pahkwa-thanh manners. It's best to wait until they're finished eating to begin your meal."

"I read that report!"

"Funny, you didn't take the advice."

"Shenti, would you please excuse us?" I ask our guest.

"No!" comes the doctor's reply.

"What?" I say.

"I'm here for breakfast. You're still ill. And I'm tired of your airs. If you have something to say to your husband, just say it and ignore that I'm here—just like normal married people, who have family lives."

"I will not air our dirty laundry in front of you or anyone else on this ship!" I say between clinched teeth.

"And I thought you liked me! So much for friendship! Do you not think that I can't keep my mouth shut? Half the ship is afraid of me and reacts like you just did. You're practically the only one on this ship that doesn't feel uncomfortable when I'm about. Is it too much to ask that I be treated normally for a change? To have a friendly breakfast and not carry?"

At his words, I get up for the table and go to our bedroom, slapping the door consul in irritation. "Wow, you've got balls!" Wil says as e looks over his shoulder in the direction of his wife. "I told her that the first time I met her and had the same reaction. She didn't speak to me for days after wards. Just let me go and talk to her. She shouldn't treat you rudely."

"No, don't. Let her come to us. She's highly medicated, which as you can see has a few side affects. Besides we need to talk. What's your problem with me?" Ree puts his head on his arms to listen to what his superior said.

"I have no problem with you or your work. I just need some time to get used to your outward appearance. You give me the heebie-jeebies. I just don't know how to react. Sometimes I feel that you are going to eat me. I don't know why I'm afraid of you or why I am acting so stupid in your presence. It's not like our two cultures were enemies or were warring."

"Heebie-jeebies? Is that like cooties? A young patient of mine said I had cooties," remarks Ree thoughtfully.

"Cooties, heebie-jeebies, the willies. It all boils down to a person not liking someone or being afraid of him or her for some reason."

Ree bares his teeth as he speaks, "Did you ever watch the children's hollow programs on dinosaurs?"

"I've seen a few."

"Earth's research on its Mesozoic period has brought forth many insightful scientific discoveries and theories. At the same time, it has also maligned my people greatly, especially the holovids on the predators that our distant relatives known as tyrannosaurus rex and eorapter—both were carnivorous and fierce hunters. The holovids dwell on these two aspects, which prejudices my people's case. Generics have supported the theory that you and I are related to t-rex and eorapter, despite coming from different planets. Never the less, we are also two different species. Both human and Pahkwa-thanh have developed beyond the basics of survival into civilized creators. Unfortunately, this isn't in most people's minds when they see us for they can only think about the holovids and not the actual situation."

"You've got me penned."

"Chay."

"Chay?"

"It means yes and no in Pahkwa-thanh language."

"Okay, chay."

"I think aside from my appearance there are other reasons that you don't like me."

"And what would that be?" Wil says defensively.

"A little bit of jealously and insecurity." Ree's answer elicits a hearty laugh from Wil.

"I have a nose and two eyes. The nose can smell when people are afraid, ill and even jealous—emotions that set off pheromones in most species. My eyes can detect such changes, which is very good for my line of work."

"So when do I get jealous?"

"Whenever I or any other male get too close. Deanna likes me. I like her. She knows that you know that I like her. She also knows when you get upset such as when any other male other than you even looks at her. She tries to keep a low profile and not turn any heads, but that is rather difficult to do. She's a beautiful woman. Species being what they are, it is very difficult for the sexes not to look at each other—regardless of species type. You hide it well." Ree gives Riker his best grin.

"I do?"

"Yes, you have this great poker face. Plus, you're still newlyweds. I think the old Earth saying, 'ownership is 9/10 of the law' still applies in marriages albeit it being a bit old fashion. You shouldn't feel insecure about my presence; I have my hands full with my podmate, wives and children. Now, if I were a Klingon, that would be a different story." Ree looks at Riker intensely.

"You saw her little souvenir."

"Well, I am a doctor and have access to such knowledge. But the romantic in me knows when a love bite is a love bite," says the Pahkwa-thanh raising his tail. "Ratschkeque put a smile on my face and pepper in my tail when she bit me."

Wil can only smile at this. He looks around at the pristine table. _Am I wearing my emotions on my shoulder every time I step out my quarters? This guy has me penned. You'd think he were an empath. I don't know whether to be livid or entertained. But on the other hand, he really knows how to handle Deanna. He can come over anytime. I wonder if he plays pocker. _Wil rubs at his beard, which was starting to have a five o'clock shadow."And what about your own marriage?"

"Just say that I am on sabbatical. Although I love them dearly, they are a bit much. You'll feel this way in about twenty years."

"You speak like an old man."

"In my species, I am."

Wil looked at the bedroom door. Deanna still hadn't come out. "I'll try not to cringe whenever you come around."

"That would be nice among friends."

"You're always welcome to come visit us. Do you play poker?"

"Thank you. And no I don't, but I can learn. It's nice to have a spot of family on this ship. It is like minding other people's offspring: you can give them back when the day is done."

"You're sure you're not a Betazoid. You've got a knack for saying whatever is on your mind."

"I learned it from Lxwanna Troi, a beautiful woman. If I could have brought her home to my mother and podmates, I would. Enchanting woman!"

Wil falls silent at Ree's remark. He'd heard those words often about his mother-in-law, Lxwanna. How beautiful she was and how she had a positive effect on those around her. _This whole situation reminds me of my father and Dr. Katherine Pulaski. Why is it difficult for children to think about their parents having a life outside the one in which we envision them? After all, parents have needs too. Yet, I can't get past the thought of Ree as a possible father-in-law. What could those two have in common! I can't imagine it. Won't even go there! _Riker looks at the bedroom door.

Taking the Captain's silence as his queue to exit, Ree gets up, "Deanna's taking her time. I upset her; I'll talk to her. You're a romantic chap. Put all this on a platter and bring it to Deanna in about an hour," Shinte points to the table.

"An hour!"

"I'm a doctor not a dilithium crystal changer at the Indianapolis 5 million! This will take more than six seconds to fix! With your permission, Sir?" Riker nods his approval. The doctor stands up to make his way to the bedroom, taking a canister of juice with him.

Without knocking, the Pahkwa-thanh enters the darkened room to find his patient on the bed. A small mountain of tissues surrounds Deanna, who is sleeping in the middle.

Putting the juice canister on the nightstand, Ree sits on the bed and opens the sky view. The mattress takes up his weight without causing Deanna to role down the bed. The movement wakes his patient who turns to look at the doctor.

"Don't be mad at the Captain. After all it is the husband's job to egg his wife on. You've got to allow him some fun or he'd go non compos mentis. We can't have that now can we?"

"I guess not," responds Troi.

"As for me and my behavior, Beverly told me to look after you and to be your friend. She said on the Enterprise that you didn't have a lot of friends due to your line of work."

"Really? She said that?"

"Yes, she did. She also told me to not let you get away with murder, especially when you are ill."

"I really must talk to her about meddling in my affairs."

"She's your best friend and cares a great deal about your happiness. Dr. Crusher is both my colleague and superior. I have much respect for her. In fact she wrote me a letter of recommendation for the Titan. She inspires me and I aspire to be just like her. She didn't make such a personal request to be nosey nor do I take it lightly."

Upon hearing Beverly's name, Troi begins to cry. She doesn't know why, but just does. Right now, She really wants Ree to leave her alone. "Would you do me a favor and leave me alone right now? I'm not very good company."

"You don't say. You haven't been very good company for the last year. I don't know what you talk about when you're in therapy with Tuvoc, but he isn't helping matters much. Logic is nice, but it isn't the answer to everything."

"Tuvoc has helped a great deal."

"Really, if he were helping you, then why haven't you been on any away missions? Aside for ship-side negotiations and counseling, you've been ship-bound."

"I don't want to talk about it. Can't you take your leave?"

"No, Deanna. After two years of being posted on this ship, I've noticed that you've really got no friends. Aside from your husband, you don't talk to anyone on this ship. Everyone thinks highly of you professionally, but that is all that they see, because you don't let anyone in. You're a good ambassador and your patients are well looked after. But for a person who has a warm demeanor as a counselor, your private demeanor is somewhat cold. In a way, we are standing in the same boot."

"How's that?"

"Because we are experiencing some of the same prejudices. Many species don't like me because of my appearance, because they think I might just eat them. This is nonsense. Likewise, you can't read people's minds; you're an empath. Yet, some species come up with some of the most ridiculous preconceptions. Therefore, we hide behind our work and posture to protect ourselves. Well, I'm tired of protecting myself. I need a bit of social interaction. Therefore, I'm extending my tail to the one person on this ship who's been nice to me. And as your new, BPTPF, I'm digging my claws in for the long run."

"What's a BPTPF?"

"A best Pahkwa-thanh pod friend."

"So I'm stuck with you whether I want it or not?"

"Yes!"

"What about Wil?"

"I had him for breakfast already!" With that comment Troi laughs, as she wipes the tears away from her face.

Shenti adds, "We've come to an understanding, but I still give him the heebie-jeebies."

"I see."

"Will you tell me why you are so sad?"

Troi blows the hair out of her face and realizes Shenti isn't leaving. "I lost my baby and I lost my Tahii," Deanna says in an almost inaudible voice.

"Tahii, Tahii. I know this word. Just give me a moment." The Pahkwa-thanh thinks for a while, "Is it father or grandfather?"

"Father."

"Does Tuvak know?"

"Chay."

"Why not?"

"It's not logical."

"Why isn't losing your father logical?"

"He's a spirit." Troi begins to really cry now.

"Oh, my dear Deanna. I didn't rightly understand. I surmise that you don't feel like hearing from Tuvok how unfounded your grief is, because of your Betazoid roots."

"If I told him, he'd have me analyzed, so I made something up. I don't want to go to psychological evaluation; I don't want to hear how on Betazed this is considered mental illness. I just want to be left alone to grieve and get through this."

"Come here."

"What?"

"Come here and sit next to me." Deanna does as she is ordered.

"Now, my tail comes up like this around your waste. It's called a tak'a'ki or what your species call an embrace. My eldest still comes for her tak'a'ki. She's a bit younger than you with offspring of her own. Are you comfortable?" Ree asks as he pours the drinks, which Troi empties immediately and holds up her glass for more.

"Yes."

"Do you miss Beverly and the adventures of the Enterprise?"

"Yes."

"I can imagine. I've read the reports of both the Enterprise D and E. It reads like a holonovel adventure."

"Yes, it was! With the Borg, Romulans and Cardasians we had our hands full."

"But now it is different. You're captain of this ship now. Your responsibilities are different."

"I'm not captain of this ship. My husband is."

"You don't say."

"I'm just the ambassador—"

"Just the ambassador. You are the head of the diplomatic core on this ship. Plus, you are the chair of the Department of Counseling and Family Affairs. You have a bigger role than you think."

"Shenti, I'm very aware of my duties," replies Troi.

"I know. I see how hard you work everyday." The two are silent for a while until Ree enquires, "May I ask you a question?" Shenti says.

"Sure."

"Do you feel a bit overwhelmed with your work? Do you think you may need some time off?"

"You sound like Wil."

"You know it is okay to go on sabbatical. Look at me."

"You call this a sabbatical?"

"Yes, I do from my wives, pod mate and children."

"You want to share?" Deanna asks, trying to distract the doctor from her issues.

"Only if you share." There is slilen as Deanna thinks about Ree's request.

_I feel a bit trapped. Shenti is forcing me to be his friend. This is something I'm not used to—people offering to be my friend. For the first time of the day, I open my empathic senses to take Shenti into account. I'm overwhelmed by not only the good doctor, but by Wil, who is waiting outside. Both men emit concern and are worried about me. From Wil there is a bit of guilt while Shenti emotes a love a father would have for his daughter.. _

_Shenti pulls me in closer with his tail. I look at him. He's so calm. Every since I could remember, I never was a fully integrated member of human or Betazoid society. Not being a full telepath, it was difficult for me to communicate with anyone who wasn't outside of my immediate family. When my human grandparents were around, they all assumed that I could read their minds. Shenti is right: people have unacceptable stereotypes of different species. Looking down at Shenti's tail, I notice that his tail has been bitten. A love bite I surmise and blush red_

"Deanna, I asked you a question. Why are you embarrassed?"

At his words, Deanna shys away. _She thinks: I've always been quiet and reserved, which has aided me in my coping with Betazoid society. It makes me unassuming and doesn't put me at the mercy of prying telepath minds. I can even hide from my mother if I want. But Shenti has seen through this ruse. I realize I can't hide from him. He can smell my emotions much like I feel his._

"You have a huge bite on your tail."

"Ah, my Ratschkeque. A sign of true love; you should know that."

With those words Troi look down. She longs for Beverly, who knew such private details about her. She looks at Shenti and admits, "This is really hard for me."

"Would you like a little time off to get your strength back?"

"I don't know. What would I do with all the time on my hands?"

"May I make a joke?"

"Is it going to be a dirty one? Despite your genteel ways, I heard that you can be really crass when you want to be."

"Yes, it is and I love a dirty joke now and then! With all the time on your hands, you can shag your husband until your hearts content!"

At that Troi bursts into laughter and hides her face in her hands.

"Well, it is true. You have 677 unused vacation days that has been accrued over 28 years in Starfleet. You could have 2.4 children in that time. Get a post doctoral degree or even become captain of your own ship if you wanted."

"I don't want to be captain of a ship."

"Why not?"

"I've got all the wrong characteristics: too emotional, too quiet, too small and limited ambitions."

"Really? President Nan Bacco of the Federation, who is known for her small stature and quiet presence, has the stuff to lead! Why not you? Half the female leaders in Star Fleet have the very same characteristics that you just mentioned. If I were William Riker, I would watch my back!"

"Look at me! No one would take me serious as captain!" Troi emphasizes her stature.

"Since when is height, a qualification for captaincy—"

"Why are we talking about captaincy?! I just made diplomatic officer; a job I want to keep," retorted Deanna.

"You could have fooled me. You may be in dry dock, but you are giving one hell of a fight. It's as if you are stating that you will be the youngest Betazoid captain in history if it kills you. What's it going to be: captain, dry dock or sabbatical?" the doctor asks.

_I look at Ree's tail and realize that he has asked the question even Tuvok had not dared to ask. The one that I've been reluctant to face up to for a while: "If I am unfit for duty, what shall I do with my time?" The phaser blast made me unfit for duty. I chose to ignore it, but now I no longer can. I must take sometime off._

"Shenti, why are you doing this to me?" Tears build up in Deanna's eyes

"I'm your friend. As such I care about you. And I think that you need to slow down some and catch your breath. It happens to the best of us. I've got one podmate, two wives and seven children. I love them all dearly, but things were getting into a rut. Now, everyone has a breather. We're all talking again. The children are happy. We miss each other and we are glad that I am taking my sabbatical."

"I've let Wil and my house down once: I don't want to let anyone down again."

"That is natural to want to please your loved ones, but how are you letting them down?" With this the tears flow and I am silent.

"I lost. . .I lost. . ."

Shenti begins to speak, "On our planet, depending on sex, 5-12% of all Pahkwa-thanh can't produce children. It is an impossibility. It is also natures' natural birth control method. That's why we have a system of podmates, so everyone can feel a part of a family. Just because you lost your child, doesn't mean you're letting your family or Wil down. What are you going to do if you miscarry again?"

"I can't think about it. It's too painful. And I don't know what to tell my mother."

"I know Lxwanna Troi very well. She cares a great deal about you."

"Only thing we do is fight. I can't stand having her around. At times, her love strangles me. I don't want to hear how I'm a failure because I haven't produced an heir for the Fifth House. I don't want to hear about how important Betazoid traditions are or what my responsibility toward my house and home world should be."

"You've made very valid points. But when your mother and I were together, she spoke very favorable about you. She may not tell you what a wonderful person you are, but she says it to others. She does love you."

"You dated my mother? I thought you were married." Deanna closes her eyes and doesn't want to think about it her mother's love life or her dalliances.

"I have never claimed to live a perfect life, Deanna."

"What did my mother do to your marriage?"

"First, don't assume she brings chaos to everything and everyone she meets. Lxwanna Troi is a highly respected diplomat with a talent in uniting the opposition. Second, she was there when I needed it the most. In my culture, the daughter of an ex-lover is considered a daughter. Likewise, an ex-lover is not to be shunned, but respected for life."

"I'm sorry." the glasses are empty. Troi reaches for the container that is half empty to pour more drinks.

"Thank you, Deanna."

The two are silent for some time. Deanna realizes that Shenti will stand his ground. She speaks, "I still haven't answered your question."

"At my age, one learns to be patient."

"Wil said that if I kept up my poor behavior that he would relieve me of duty."

"We've talked about this issue last week and I agreed with him that that was within his right."

"I guess I'd better straighten up and fly right."

"Allow him to relieve you of duty and make it public knowledge."

"I'm not going to embarrass My Captain nor myself in front of the crew."

"Deanna, this isn't about saving face. It is about professionalism and fairness. You're married to your superior officer. He can't allow favors or nepotism—"

"That's why I'm working so hard. I don't want others to think that he is favoring me."

"For the past two years, Deanna, you have shown your value: the treaty between the Romulans and Federation wouldn't have happen without you. You've shown your dedication: you have taken the phaser hit meant for your husband. You are a good team player. Now it is time to have a break. Think of your health. Think of your relationship with this crew. But mainly think of how you can best help the man you call husband and captain."

"I don't want to leave him," Troi begins to cry, because she knew that this painful subject would come up.

"Who said anything about leaving? You're here. You're perfectly able to support each other. Just don't let Commander Vale know what you are up to while you're off duty."

"I don't know how."

"It's called strategic planning. The Captain and you think of a plan of action and implement it at the next staff meeting."

"I'll think about it. Maybe a few weeks will do me good."

"No, Deanna, a few months. You're really ill this time. Until you get your second kidney, you will have set backs. Look at today. You didn't throw up because of my display. We've had lunch many times together. You threw up, because your body is having difficulty processing the nutrients that it needs. You're eating the flowers, because your body needs to replenish certain enzymes."

"Then why don't you relive me of duty?"

"It wouldn't be conducive to your strategic planning."

"I understand. May I rest now?" Deanna pouts openly.

"No."

"Now, what?" She asks with irritation.

"You still have to call your mother and tell her. I want to be there when you speak to her, so she knows you are in good hands." With those words, Dr. Ree lets go of Deanna. As if on queue, Wil walks into the room with breakfast, setting it on the bed.

"So I'll go clean up the kitchen and let you eat." The Pahkwa-thanh removes him self from the bed and goes into the kitchen.

Wil replaces Shinte on the bed. "You okay?"

"Yes, we have to call mother."

"I just asked Vale for a secure connection to Betazoid. We can call in about 20 minutes."

"Okay." I begin to eat my meal while Wil watches me in silence.

* * *

"Shenti! How grand to see you! Your pod mate wrote me a lovely communiqué a few months ago, telling me of your adventures on the Titan. Please, forgive me for not writing, but Betazed has been under constructions for the last decade. We've really put our noses to the grindstone by investing in the most up-to-date security measures and a new fleet. The Federation of Planets will have a new respect for Betazed when we are finished. But enough about the politics of rebuilding! How are my future grandchild, daughter and son?" Lxwanna Troi greets her ex-lover with her usual exuberance.

"Lxwanna, it is wonderful to see you again. My Zahiia, you look so lovely; my heart is bursting with joy just to see you."

"Always the flatterer, Shenti. You really know how to make a woman feel exquisite even when she's sitting about in her morning coat. How are you!"

"I'm doing very well and yourself."

"I'm getting a bit older and more cantankerous in my old age, which is a lovely power to have. Star Fleet and the Federation of Planets snap to attention when I call."

"Please, my Zahiia, do not tell me you are misusing your powers."

"I wouldn't think of it! There's too much to be done to go off on tangents. Besides, I want to save my energy for my grandchild and children. Once again, I ask you, 'How are they?'"

"Are you sitting?"

"Yes, I am."

"Deanna lost the baby," Dr. Ree looks pained as he speaks and fails to make direct eye contact with his Zahiia.

"Oh, great Goddess, no!" Lxwanna's hands go to her face in shock. "Is she doing all right? How did Wil take the news? They must be devastated."

"Deanna's not well and needs time to recover. And both are truly saddened by the event. But don't despair, they can try again in a year," Shenti emphasizes the again next year and rolled the r.

"Oh, my poor Little One! Is she there? Can I speak to her?"

"Only if you promise to behave yourself."

"I shall be on my best behavior. And before we leave, when can we see each other again? I miss you so!"

"Oh, my Lxwanna, the stars will tell us of our fate. Believe in the Goddess and she shall make it so."

"Good-bye my friend."

"A fond fair well to you Lxwanna Troi, Daugter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Holy Chaix of Rii." Ree turns to allow Deanna and Wil to see the view screen. The two huddle on the sofa while Deanna is crying in Wil's arm.

Lxwanna's heart skips a beat when she sees her daughter and son. Both look absolutely miserable. Remembering to remain on her best behavior, Lxwanna reaches out to her her children. "Deanna, my daughter. Wil, my son," the matriarch pauses and waits for the couple to turn their attention to her. Upon hearing her mother call her name, Deanna howls into her husband's shoulder. "Little One, let out your grief; don't hold it in like I did for years. It's perfectly okay to cry. I understand how you feel." Lxwanna watches, as Wil whispers into his wife's ear to comfort her. After a few minutes, Deanna is able to look at her mother.

"Hello. . .hick. . .Mother," Deanna says between grasps for air.

"Is Shenti taking good care of you?"

"Yes, he's been here all morning and hasn't left our side," replies Wil.

"He is a good friend to have in a crisis. You listen to him and do what he says Little One—Deanna," Lxwanna mentally kicks herself for calling her daughter the dreaded nickname. "When I lost Kestra, Shenti helped me pick up the pieces of my life. The Goddess knows what I would have done without him. He's a good friend whom you can rely on."

"Mother, I can't talk for long. I've been up all morning. . .hick. . . I'm rather ill . . .my kidney is not functioning well."

"Of course, I understand Deanna. Shall I come visit or would you like to come home? The mansion doesn't look like a battlefield anymore; the repairs are finished. The gardens are lovely this time of year."

"That's not necessary. I'll. . .I'll stay on board with Wil. Shenti can look after me. Plus, we are in Romulan territory. You know how they can be."

"All the more that you should come home. But if you insist on staying on the Titanic, I'll abide by your will." Wil puts his face in his wife's hair to suppress a groan. _Titan_ _he thinks! _

"Thank you for respecting my wishes. How are you? You look a bit tired."

"Briam's going through his teenage years. The courts have ordered that he divide his time between his father and me. As you know children of divorce, use such a situation to get back at their parents for wrecking havoc on their lives. I'm getting what I deserve. Briam will be here next week second day. Why don't you call then, when you are feeling better, Deanna. Then we can talk as a complete family."

"That'll be nice mother."

"You're sure you don't want me to come."

"I'll be fine," replied Deanna firmly.

"Wil, you put Little One to bed right away. Take a few days off and stay home. Do you hear me, my son?"

Wil looks up from Deanna's hair, "Shenti has grounded us for the next few days, so you don't have to worry. I can take care of my Imzadi."

"Of course you can Wil. You do a fantastic job. Tell Shenti good-bye. I'll see you next week. Mother loves you!" Lxwanna says as she blows kisses. The viewer goes blank.

"Well, that went very well, Deanna. I don't think Lxwanna will be pestering you for a while. The guilt of her past behavior toward you is most likely eating her up already," the Pahkwa-thanh responded somberly. "Poor Mr. Homm most probably will have to put up with a full emotional breakdown. Oh, such loyalty in a personal valet is difficult to find in these times."

Wil smiles and caresses his wife face, "That wasn't too bad. The worse is over now. Thank you for your help, Dr. Ree."

"Oh, it was nothing. You just have to know how to handle her."

"How do you know my mother?" asks Deanna while blowing her nose, realising that she never asked in ther previsous conversation.

"We go way back to when I was a young hatchling. She caught me hunting on the Troi family estate. I got a little hungry and went hunting. Lxwanna caught me with a catke between my jaws—it is a small rodent, which was over running the estate, Captain— what a temper she had and what a time we had! The rest is history." Shenti has the look of love in his eyes, as he stares out the living room window. Wiping her nose, Deanna is a bit shocked not being able to take in the entire scene. Wil is grinning and shaking his head in disbelief.

Ree catches himself, "Oh, dear me! Look at the time. It's 15:00! Nurse Ogawa is going to kill me! I said I'd be back to look after the triplets. Captain, put Deanna to bed and be in my office in an hour. Don't dally. You want to spend a few days at home. I've left your medication on the bed stand, Deanna. Wil administer it before you come visit me." With that the Pahkwa-thanh left Deanna and Wil to ponder on the relationship between Lxwanna and him.

Wil helps Deanna into bed, covering her with the comforter. "Wil?"

"Yes, Imzadi."

"Did Mother look okay to you?"

"A little older and a little more tired I suppose. She's been one of the chief advocates for the rebuilding of Betazed. She's also the past Supreme Viceroy of the Betazed Unicameral. She's had some big responsibilities in the last ten years. "

"She wasn't well. She was still in her morning gown. It's early noon and a work day."

"That is a prerogative of being old. You can do what you want. She'll be fine."

"She wasn't angry. She didn't ask anything about how I lost the baby."

"Dr. Ree was standing guard. You saw how he told her to behave at the start of the conversation. Besides, you can tell her next week." Wil kisses his wife on the forehead. "Get some rest. I'll go shower and get down to sickbay, so Ree doesn't have to call twice." Wil kisses his wife's forehead and leaves.

I listen to Wil taking a shower. For the love of the Goddess, Shenti is enamored with Mother. She's got a reputation from Betazed to DS9; that's all I can say. I hope to have such sex appeal when I'm older. I blush to think about it. I'm trying very hard to figure out what those two have in common aside from a good roll in the wool. I wonder if Shenti knew Kestra or my father. Or did my father know about Shenti? Deanna Troi, don't make your mother into a trollop. You know that parents have lives that are outside of their roles as parents. Shenti even said he has not led the perfect life.

Dr. Ree—Shenti—knows my mother, who knows everyone. It is really surprising how she has gotten around in the galaxy. Shenti and Mother are Zahiia, lovers who have remained best friends. I guess the closet that I have to having a Zahiia is Worf, who is also Wil's best friend too. Dr. Ree can keep mother at bay. I'll give him two thumbs up on that achievement. The only other man who could do that was my father, whom Mother has never forgiven for dying. The pain is so great.

It is ever so strange that Shenti never told me that he knew my mother. Upon further thought, he never had the chance. Today was the first time that he ever visited my quarters and he had to invite himself in. Have I been that distant with the crew that they think I'm cold? Betazoids are very hospital people. Mother would be shocked at my poor hospitality skills if she thought I was being rude.

I've never really thought about how others might view my actions. My quarters are my sanctuary. It's the only place where I can be myself—let my hair down so to say. Because of this, I don't want other people here. Can't I have some privacy? My house doesn't belong to the crew or outside visitors. These are our quarters; our private space. I'm loathed to share them with other people. I need my distance to feel safe.

But Shenti believes I need a friend and should extend myself to others. Hmm, I guess I heard that before. We are going to be friends whether I want it or not, according to him. I wonder if he used that same forcefulness with Mother. I giggle a little when I think about it: Shenti with a catke in his mouth, being confronted by Mother. I'd given anything to see him talk himself out of that one. He is correct that our family estate by Lake Janara is full of the rodents. It is a refuge for endangered species. Although Mother couldn't stand my kitten, she loves nature and protects it. Our estate has some of the most rare birds and animals on it. The catkee are on the estate as food for the predators. They do run about in abundance, so I guess Shenti would find it inviting to go hunting there.

Talk about not leading a perfect life. Look at my life now. Talk about lack of direction and cowardice. What got into me today? I couldn't even face Mother. The only thing I could do was cry like a child in my husband's arms, wanting to run away from the whole thing. My mother deserves better or does she? No, not really. For the love of the Goddess, I feel bad, because Mother always wanted me to have a child. That's all she talked about when I was young.

But deep down I resented it. I resented she wanted to dictate to me how I should lead my life or what family responsibilities that I should take on. I hated it so much I joined Star Fleet to get away from her and to start making some of my own decisions. I have always wanted children, but not until now. I wanted to travel and see the galaxy—to experience something new. My goal was not to have a gaggle of children to ensure the Troi family line.

But now it is different. I've come full circle and know what I want. I have a husband who loves me along with a satisfying career. I can stand up for myself and say when I've had enough or what direction I want to go. These are things that mother never allowed me to do. She was too controlling and I really resent this in her. I just want her to leave me alone. The less we are together; the better off we are.

My meds are wearing off, but I know I have to wait a bit before getting my next hypo. Goddess I hate being sick. I hate not having control. Okay, think on something Deanna, so the pain won't be so bad.

Let's go back to Shenti. He wants me to take two months off. What am I going to do for two months while in deep space? I can't sit still. Maybe I can talk Wil into letting me helm the ship for a few hours a week if I give up everything else. Really, the younger ensigns like it, but after about 100 hours, it gets very boring being on duty. True, every blue moon one actually has to fly the ship, but that never really happens. I begin to giggle again. Every time I was at the helm, the Enterprise was in trouble! It's misinformation to say that a ship flies by itself or one could do it with one's eyes closed.

Pain strikes me suddenly and my eyes shoot open. Blarney waiting the required time. Being in the middle of the bed, I edge toward the nightstand. Suddenly, my body begins to spasm. I send Wil a SOS.

_Wil, please help me!_

_I'm almost dressed; I'll be right there in a few minutes._

I close my eyes trying to get my body under control, but can't. My stomach contracts again. When Wil comes in, I'm drenched in sweat. He looks at me and grabs the tri-corder to take a reading.

"Imzadi, your uterus is having contractions, as it is going back to its original size. The tricorder says it's very normal after having a miscarriage"

"May I have the meds please?" I gasp.

"One dose coming up." I feel the hypo against my skin. The last thing I remember is Wil pulling the covers over me after he changed my wet clothing. He kisses me good-bye after putting a med alert disk on my forehead. He programs the MAD into the tricorder and leaves.

* * *

"Captain, you're just in time!" states Dr. Ree, as he gingerly places an infant over his captain's shoulder.

"In time for what?" inquires Wil.

"Sir, as captain one of the greatest honors is to welcome new crew members. As the triplets are the first children to be born on the Titan, we've prepared a little plaque and bag of goodies for the parents. Now, take this little one on your should like this. Here's your plaque. I'm sure you can regurgitate a speech from your Enterprise days, as Captain Picard had children in spades. Now, off we go to the happy parents." Ree leads the way with an infant in his arms, followed by nurse Okawa. When they enter the private room, family and crewmembers are crowded in the small space. A round of applause breaks out. Although not an empath, Wil can feel the love in the room. He goes directly to Lt. Upton Lee-Wong and her husband Daniel Star Wolf, who is the Titan's elementary school teacher.

"It is with great honor that I welcome on board the newest members of the Titan crew," begins Wil and then stops, "Dr. Ree—"

"Captain?"

"My shoulder's suddenly wet! I think the baby either just peed or spat up on me!" Wil gives the plaque to the father and takes he baby gingerly in his arms to find milk all over his clothes. The visitors begin to laugh.

"Oh, captain, I'm so sorry! Here hand her to me!" Upton rubs at the spot on Wil's shoulder.

"Oh, no! Give me a towel. I have to learn to do this! Deanna'll have my hide if I'm seen giving up so quickly!" Wil is handed a cloth by Ree while he cradles the baby in his arms. He gently wipes the milk from the child's face. The crowd looks on without a word being spoken.

"So, were was I. Yes, I was about to congratulate you Lt. Lee-Wong and Richard Star Wolf, but I realized something!"

"What?" asks Lee-Wong and Star Wolf!

"I haven't a clue what your children are named! I just know there are two girls and a boy!"

"You don't have a speech either, do you Captain?" asks Vale as she comes through the doors with a tray of Champaign, giving a glass to her captain!.

Wil turns to see his first officer, "No, I don't, but I thought I'd wing it!" This gets a laugh from the visitors.

"Well, you are holding our first born Sweet Water or Meiying, which means beautiful flower. Dr. Ree has Shining Water or Xiu Mei—beautiful plum and Nurse Okawa has Peaceful Water or Hu San—third Tiger child," replies the father.

"On behalf of the crew of the Titan, I want to welcome Meiying, Xiu Mei, and Hu San on board. I wish you and your parents a long and prosperous lives filled with the many blessings of the Creators. Here is to the future generation of Starfleet personnel!" Wil tipped his glass toward the parents among a chorus of bravos and mazel tovs! A chair is found for the captain who sits down gratefully, still holding the baby close to him. The visitation plays out amicably until Ree reminds Riker of his upcoming surgery. The two leave among unhappy groans.

"Captain, you did very well under the circumstances," comments Dr. Ree.

"I didn't get to hold Hu San! Think they'll hold it against me?" Wil states ignoring the compliment and trying not to think too much about their loss. He was too afraid to ask if the entire crew or Lt. Lee-Wong knew about their loss.

"Welcome to the club! I delivered Hu San and I haven't held him! Don't take it personal captain."

"I just don't want to be accused of not giving my blessing!"

"Captain! Is your name Benjamin Sisko?"

"No!"

"Then you have nothing to worry about!" quips the doctor. "Ah, Nurse Ogawa, thank you for assisting me. Now, Captain, I'm going to give you what we in the industry call happy gas. You'll feel a bit floaty and may start laughing. Enjoy the experience and try not to think too much, as it slows the healing process. Relax now. You'll feel a slight pressure up your nose."

"Whatever, you say Doc. Just get me home ASAP!" Wil replies, as he lies down on the bio bed.

_Try not to think Ree says! Now that's an understatement. All I can do right now is think! Think how I hate being on this biobed while the ship is being run without me. Think about how I hope I didn't make an ass out of myself with Lt. Lee-Wong's family. Think how my Imzadi is going to kill my ass when I tell her she's relieved of duty. Think about how I'm gonna tell her. Think how I wish I could send her home to her mother, but know she wouldn't go. Think about why my Imzadi can't get on with her mother. Think how my father and I duked it out playing anbo-jyutsu. Hell, I had to beat the shit out of my old man just so he would show me some respect—pity that he's dead and can't see me know. Maybe that's what Deanna needs to do with her mother: put her in her place and demand respect from her. I wonder what happened to those two that the hate is so deep? Must have been something big. Think—_

"Captain Riker?" Dr. Ree calls his captains's name.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha!!!?" Riker laughs. There are stars before his eyes.

"I've told you twice that you can get up and go home. Were you thinking?"

"Yes, I was, but I can't remember where I left off! But at least I feel happy."

"I told you not to think! You're supposed to be recovering."

"How long have I been out?"

"Happy hour ended at 18:00."

"Two hours! For anodes!"

"You're the one who wanted to think! Get out of here! Take the MAD with you. Deanna's vitals look really good. I'll come by this evening to check on the two of you," states Ree.

Riker sits up slowly and breathes through his nose. "Hey, I can breathe better. Thanks Doc."

"Your welcome. Now, go home to that wife of yours. I've got sick patients to attend to!"

* * *

Ree sits in his private office. Lxwanna is on the view screen. "How long and why haven't you told Deanna?" the Pahkwa-thanh demands.

"I can't fool you! Can I, Shenti!" comes the reply. Ree points to his eyes to which Lxwanna only could shake her head and smile. "What would you say if I came to visit you?"

"If you are on your best behavior and travel with a companion, then I'm not against seeing you again. We can pick up where we left off some years ago."

"You will be the death of me! Don't tell Deanna I'm coming. It shall be a surprise! Mr. Homm, pack my bags! We're going to. . .Shenti, where are you?"

"In Romulan territory, the Federation transport ship Petra Kelly curries diplomats and has an excellent sickbay, should you need it."

"Wonderful! See you soon." Ree barely has the chance to bow his approval when the screen goes blank.

So that is it for a few weeks! See you soon!


	4. Chapter 4

Here is another chapter. If one is wondering who all the characters are, most stem from the TNG and Titan books or TNG series. Canon is not adhered to at all times, but a figment of my imagination! Please post your thoughts! Thanx!

* * *

I slip into the bedroom to find My Admiral sleeping peacefully under the sky view that allows in the pink glow of a nebula, which Stellar Cartography is charting. Although it's early evening and having a slight headache, I decide to turn in with plans of going on a morning swim. After putting on pajamas, I walk into the bedroom to find a PADD on my pillow. My heart skips a beat, as I pick up the small computer to read:

To: Captain William T. Riker of NCC-80102 Titan

From: Commander Deanna Troi, Chief Diplomatic Officer of NCC-80102 Titan

Date: 62707.23

RE: Request for Extended Convalescent Leave

Dear Captain Riker:

Upon speaking with Chief Medical Officer Shenti Yisec Eres Ree, it has been made clear to me that my present medical condition is extremely debilitating, making me unfit to perform my duties. I officially request extended convalescent leave until Stardate 63287.67.

Sincerely,

Commander Deanna Troi,

Chief Diplomatic Officer

I breathe a sigh of relief. My Admiral is making this extremely easy for me or is she? My main concern is the loss of my wife as a diplomat and counselor. To tell the truth, our enlisted personnel are only 183 with 235 civilians who are mostly family members and service personnel. A little over half of my crew is on their first deep space mission. Since our maiden voyage over two years ago, we've lost 22 crewmembers who unfortunately haven't been replaced. The ship is so far away from Federation space that their bodies have yet to be shipped home.

The Titan isn't the Enterprise that had almost 550 enlistees. We are an exploration vessel with limited resources and personnel. On the Enterprise, if Picard got ill, which did happen on a yearly basis, there were plenty of good officers to take his place. Data, Worf and Dr. Crusher could all take over in a pinch. Later Deanna came into the mix. Hell, Geordi even got a shot at commanding the Enterprise.

On my ship along with My Admiral, I have Vale and Tuvok. Everyone else is just green. Although Dr. Ra-Havreii, as chief engineer, has done well so far for the Titan, I don't really have an experienced engineer—just a person who has gotten lucky by winging it. In addition, Ra-Havreii has terrible people skills and erratic behavior, despite his genius as an engineer and ship designer.

Deanna is my left hand. By making her inactive, I lose a vital member of my crew, which ain't good, especially since we are in Romulan territory. I guess that is why I allowed her to work this long. I couldn't afford to run the ship without her help, as she has taken up the slack many times.

Putting the PADD on the nightstand, I get into bed and slide over to my Imzadi. For the first time, she is in a deep slumber. I don't want to disturb her, but I'm a bit cold, so I spoon my body around her. She responds by snuggling into my arms. I put my arm around her chest and realize her breasts feel fevered. Placing worry aside, I remind myself that Dr. Ree stated he would come by to check on us.

Deanna's body warms me while I wonder why I'm so cold tonight. Perhaps, I'm just nervous about taking someone else's advice. It's not like she won't speak to me about key issues—she has a mind that keeps me on my toes. Plus, I'm used to listening to a variety of people. Damn! Now, my feet are cold. I pull the second comforter up over us.

If I give her extended leave, then what? I really don't want her sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She won't go to her mother that I can bet on. Holiday is out. Even if she did go on holiday, I want to go with her. Beverly and Picard are too far away to visit, so they are out.

I laugh at myself. A few hours ago just before my surgery, I was worried about how to put the wife on inactive duty. Now I'm worried about what she will do with her time. Perhaps, she could take a refresher course while on inactive duty, brush up on her piloting skills and take the new helm exam. She can also iron out the next round of negotiations between the Federation, Romulans, Remons and Klingons.

I reach for the PADD to write a response, but stop myself. I need an authorization from Ree to placate Christina Vale, my Number One. I shoot off a communiqué with a copy of Deanna's letter, requesting the medical leave certificate. I fall asleep for a few hours, but suddenly wake up with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Ree's menacing snout comes into my mind. Wanting to sleep, but fearing what Ree might do to me if I don't fix My Admiral a decent meal, I drag my tired ass out of bed, put my house shoes on and go into the kitchen to prepare something.

Dr. Ree's diet plans are on the counter top. I pick out a light vegetarian bouillon to prepare with patitatii—a Betazoid flat bread made of vegetables. Twenty minutes later the base for the bouillon is simmering on the stove while I knead patitatii dough. Concerned about my Imzadi, I look to see if she is still in bed. I am startled by her presence at the table. She sits quietly while watching me.

"You're good! Almost gave me a heart attack, sneaking up like a Jem' Hadar."

"I did learn from the best."

"I know. Are you going to show me how you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me like that."

"I gave you a hint," Deanna ignores her husband's question.

"Really, now! What was that," I ask as I pour fruit juice into two glasses and sit one before Troi.

"You turned to see if I was in bed," says Deanna, as she finishes off the glass in one round.

"A geenk—a mind brush!"

"You should pay attention more," teases Deanna holding her glass up for more.

"I was a little occupied. I'll try to keep my senses open more." I wink at Deanna, who drinks her second glass of juice then comes to his side.

"May I help you?"

"You feel up to it? You were eating flower arrangements a few hours ago."

"I'm feeling better. Plus, I'm the patitatii expert," says Deanna. She slaps me on my butt to get me out of the way and puts on an apron. Separating the vegetables from the broth, I put the vegetables in a bowl and hand it to my wife who purees them and adds the mixture to the dough. In a cloud of flour, she begins to mix the dough to form the flatbread. I sigh heavily and watch my Imzadi, The Goddess blessed my wife with one good cooking skill: excellent patitatii chef. Too bad it doesn't go with keeping a spotless kitchen as one cooks!

"I'm sorry I asked about you-know-what."

"I can't talk about it, Wil; I don't want to talk about it." Deanna is almost inaudible when she speaks.

"Yah, I got a couple of missions like that too, where I'll take the knowledge to my grave. I guess it's enough to know that you helped save your planet," l reply. The couple works together in silence.

I sneak a glance at my Imzadi, who looks somewhat rested. I try not to sound angry or upset when I ask Deanna about the Battle of Betazed and get the same response every time. I know first hand about secret missions, where a person has to keep her mouth shut or face the consequences.

* * *

What I have an issue with is that my wife, mother-in-law and hundreds of other freedom fighters were _rehabilitated_ for eight months. What the hell is rehabilitation, but a fancy word for jail or incarceration after one has committed most probably a serious crime?

Neither Picard nor I could visit Deanna while she was incarcerated. Star Fleet wouldn't intervene. It was not within their jurisdiction, because it was an _internal affair_ of the planet. When my Imzadi returned, she looked like hell—not much better than she does now. She went back to work without a peep of complaint. She didn't talk about what her role was other than to escort a prisoner back to the home world from a Betazoid penal colony. The record basically states that the citizens freed Betazed in ground combat. The official news broadcast stated that the freeing of the Betazed was the miraculous will of the Goddesses.

I don't wish to be rude or unfeeling when it comes to My Admiral's religion. But really, whom are these people trying to fool? The official news statement is the stuff that makes people want to not believe in the Creator or the Goddess and to leave organized religion behind, because the people in power abuse their positions by making an unspeakable act into the will of the All Mighty. Grudgingly, I let this thought go, because I don't want to insult my wife's religion nor taint what she did for her planet.

I would have left the issue of the Battle of Betazed alone if it weren't for Worf, who pointed out to me that Deanna had combat stress reaction, which she hid well. I passed this information on to Beverly, who concurred the fact, but stated with skepticism, "Both Star Fleet and the Betazoid authorities have assured us that this issue was dealt with during their rehabilitation. Unless, Deanna poises a threat to herself, is unable to perform her duties or has a complete mental break down, there is no need for therapy."

Beverly added, "As much as I dislike the situation, I agree with Worf's assessment, but am under orders not to allow Deanna to talk to any unauthorized personnel in this matter. In short if there is a need for her to talk, she has to go back home." With these words, Beverly arched her eyebrows for emphasis.

She looked me squarely in the eyes and asked, "Now what would you do as a doctor if you were given such orders? Do you really believe that Deanna can go back home and get the therapy she needs under such circumstances?"

"Keep her here on the Enterprise," I replied.

"You're damned right, because I don't trust them. Talk about loss of human rights: eight months of incarceration! The Betazoid authorities wouldn't even give me a copy of her medical records."

Before Beverly went on a tirade, I said, "Unless it is the good of the many weighed against that of the few."

To which the seasoned doctor replied, "What a price to pay when something is eating you up inside. It reminds me of when Picard and Troi visited to the planet of Angosia, where the soldiers were incarcerated against their will after having served their planet needs."

"And what should I do? She looks so miserable," I inquired.

"Be there for her. I mean be there for her. I'm giving you a spermatozoon inhibiter. Stay with her for the next month or so. I think you should know by now that women want to be held and cared for—sex is just a nice perk. When she's ready, make love to her. If she asks you to marry her, say yes. I believe this whole incident along with Worf leaving will redirect how Deanna thinks about her future." Beverly applied the hypo.

"What makes you so sure that what you say is the best advice? Aren't you being a bit unprofessional in terms of meddling in Deanna's private affairs? And why do I have to take an inhibiter? Shouldn't that be between Deanna and me?" I asked Beverly. A bit peeved to be told what to do when it was really obvious what I should have done from the beginning. I could have smacked myself for being such a smart ass SOB.

"First, Deanna is neither physically nor mentally in any shape to have a child. Second, you were overdue months ago, unless you want to be involved in a paternity suit."

"Thanks for saving my ass! Third?"

"You're welcome. Third, being older has its privileges. This isn't only about getting Deanna back from a terrible war or my unprofessional behavior. I've been, where Deanna is now in her life. She's coming full circle. She's achieved basically every career obstacle from writing her dissertation to becoming an officer. The only things she hasn't done are marriage and a stint as Head of Psychology at Star Fleet HQ. Ian's death was harder on her than you realize. Believe me! She will want a family in the near future, so you should seriously think about commitment while you play house. War scars take time to heal. I don't want to think about Deanna being in a corner of her room crying or having the shakes, because no one on this ship can take it upon them selves to get involved. We're family and should act as such. She loves you. So stop acting like an adolescent and take that fact more seriously. Or one day it just might not be there." Beverly's spoke in a professional manner with a caring tone.

"And you've lived through that as well."

"Over the years, I missed Jack greatly. I had many difficult years, raising a son all by myself, but I got through it and was able to move on. It was the only logical thing to do."

I put my hand over the doctors, "Beverly, how can I help fix something, which can't be spoken about? I've read Betazoid philosophy many times. Their approach to a problem still eludes me."

"Is it always necessary for you to understand? Betazoid philosophy is full of what many feel are contradictions. Yet, Betazoids find a comfort in what they are taught through understanding a situation for what it is—be it logical or illogical. "

"Brahim."

"Yes, Brahim."

* * *

That was then; this is now. I still don't comprehend Betazoid philosophy despite having read many of the greatest masters. Yet, I also know bullshit when I see it. In war people have to do some unsavory deeds, which I'm sure that My Admiral was involved in. After all how do you rid a planet of Jem' Hadar? Sneak up on them like Deanna just did to me? I don't think so.

I often think that many of my wife's current problems stem from not addressing the issues of the Battle of Betazed. Her fears of getting shot on the job are only the tip of the iceberg when one thinks that she has similar experiences like Worf in terms of combat.

Because of all these factors, I just can't let this topic rest nor can I leave my Imzadi alone to deal with it all. The only thing I can do is to let her know that my door is open if she wants to talk about the Battle of Betazed. She did the same for me at the time I was held hostage on Tezwa. When the Federation rescued me, I was literally a skeleton of a man, who was afraid of his own shadow. I didn't let my colleagues see me in such condition, but Deanna understood what I was experiencing, because of her order on Betazed. She helped me adjust back into my former life. I talked; she listened. I cried; she held me. I laughed; she encouraged me to laugh harder. I wanted to make love; she was the embodiment of a beautiful union.

The PADD beeps on the table and brings me out of my thoughts. I go to it and read the contents. My wife looks up from what she is doing to look at my response. I send a communiqué to Vale:

To: Commander Christine Vale of NCC-80102 Titan

From: Captain William T. Riker of NCC-80102 Titan

Date: 62708.56

RE: Request for Extended Convalescent Leave for Commander Deanna Troi

Dear Commander Vale:

Attached to this communiqué are Dr. Ree's authorization and the official request of Commander Troi, asking for extended convalescent leave in accordance with §689.71, Section 27 of the Star Fleet Medical Leave Act.

As Commander Troi falls under both our jurisdictions based on her dual role as ship's counselor and chief diplomat officer, I request that you also approve her leave.

Please note that by granting Commander Troi leave, we are losing a vital team member. Therefore, I recommend that the Commander be granted leave in accordance with § 45.346. Subsection 22-28, requiring her to be on standby to serve and to take refresher courses in designated areas of ship operations and her field.

Sincerely,

Captain William T. Riker

The communiqué sent; I return to the stove, where my wife is cooking the patitatii on a skillet over an open flame. The thin flatbread is finished in minutes and is laid on a stasis field to keep warm and crisp.

"I sent your request for leave to Vale. I'm pretty sure she'll understand and approve it."

Deanna drops the pan into the sink and puts her right hand before her mouth. Tears flow down her checks. She whips her face with her apron.

"I should have done this a long time ago," I say trying to ease her unhappiness with being released of duty. "The truth is I thought we could beat this if we just held out a little longer and played it tough. You're my rock and I need you, but you're also not my crutch. I've been selfish Imzadi. I'm so sorry." My hands are on her shoulders.

"I didn't want to let you down. I didn't want people to think that I had it easy."

"You ain't got it easy, Imzadi. You're between a rock and a hard place when it comes to working on this ship. Anything you do is going to be looked at twice. But I have both you and the ship to think about. Right now our first duty is the priority."

"I know."

"So I guess this is when we make a contingency plan."

"Yes, Shenti told me that strategic planning is most vital."

"So what would you like to do?"

"Well, I could shag you to my heart's content!" Deanna look's up with a glint in her eyes.

"Is that a dirty joke while we're talking ship's business, because if it is I might have to put you on report!" I wink at my wife and give her a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm not very good with such jokes?"

"Leave it to Dr. Ree, whom I suspect you got if from. The Pahkwa-thanh tell the raunchiest jokes this side of the galaxy," I say not being able to resist putting my hands on her buttocks and embracing her.

My Admiral returns to being serious, "I was thinking maybe I could do a few refresher courses while on leave."

"That's a good start. Helm operations have been updated; there are new battle plans to learn. You're shuttle pilot skills need to be improved as well."

"There's so much. I really don't think I'll get much rest."

"Deanna, I'm only allowing a maximum of 20 hours a week—no weekends."

"Do I get patients?" Deanna asks as she listens to her Captain's heart. l breathe in her hair and looks into her eyes.

"No. It would be counter productive."

My Admiral looks lost for a minute before she replies, "You'll be short personnel."

"You're a skilled chief diplomatic officer. I really need you to concentrate on the upcoming negotiations with the Romulans, Remens, Klingons and Federation. Besides, it's time for the junior personnel to stop being so green and gain some vital experience." I release my wife and puts my hands back on her shoulder.

"Okay. But I will still have time on my hands."

"Tell you what. You sit down with Vale and the two of you work out a plan in which everyone who wants to increase her experience and/or expertise in a particular department or field receives an opportunity to do so. We're out in the middle of nowhere with limited personnel. We need enough people with command experience to cover a four-shift rotation plan if needed. Tuvok has his command pipes. Does Lt. Renul Keru of security have his command stripes yet?"

"Lt. Keru is still grieving about his life-partner Lt. Sean Hawk. He failed two sections and needs to retake them." Troi begins setting the table.

"Well, I understand that, but he needs to move on. It's been seven years since First Contact. Maybe taking his command test will be just the thing. Plus, didn't I see him in recreation with Steven Ruuangti of Tarquik 7?"

"It's Sevteven Ruuangti of Tarquik 7. He's a Zead, but sexually compatible with humans. He's a naturalized Federation citizen, because his family disowned him."

"Why?" I ask while adding herbs and a dash of salt to the clear bouillon that remained.

With this question, my wife's eyebrows go up, "Wil, do I have to save you from your own ignorance?"

"It was an innocent question."

"Just don't ask in polite company. Not every planet sees same sex unions as being normal." Deanna finishes setting the table. We sit down. Before we eat, she says a prayer in her native tongue and hits the gong. I'm silent and waits before speaking.

"You've got a point. Thank you! Information filed."

"Question."

"Shoot."

"On the Enterprise, Picard didn't have a policy of continuing education. Everyone knew that they could pursue further education if they wished."

"Captain Jellico."

"What does he have to do with your decisions?"

"Remember I was in the brig for being disobedient?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, the whole experience taught me that although Picard was a good captain, he hadn't prepared us for change. The crew had gotten into a set routine and found it difficult to adjust."

"Jellico made some pretty high demands of us. Plus, he threw his weight about."

"Very true, but did it break our backs?"

"No. I think it made us stronger."

"That is what I want from this crew: to make them stronger. The second thing is that I don't want to oversee potential talent."

"What do you mean?"

"Wesley was a bright kid, but I got a communiqué a few days back from Picard. Remember Mary Schwarares, Jackson Pearson and Anita Kukadu?"

" I gave Mary Schwarares, whom I know, a recommendation to the Academy. As children weren't they kidnapped with Wesley?"

"No, they weren't—they weren't deemed gifted, but they all sat in the same class as he did. They never once got a chance to helm the ship or work in engineering. Mary Schwarares is a commander on the ten Boon, Jackson Pearson just made chief engineer. Anita Kukadu is captaining a federation supply ship. All good people that we missed and who should have had the same opportunities as Wesley."

"I guess they didn't make mistakes that cost lives while at the Academy."

"No they didn't. But does graduating at the top of the class make one a better officer? Those kids didn't even make top ten percent, but they are doing well. Anita Kukadu even challenged the policy that only allowed the best and brightest be part of Alpha Squadron. She said the selection was flawed and won. She's doing what she loves. Both Picard and I missed out on a good pilot. Had we given her a chance while on the Enterprise, maybe I wouldn't be stuck with so few pilots."

"She and you both have points."

At that time, the door chimes. "Come!" shout the couple.

The doors slide open to reveal Christina Vale. Deanna gets up to greet her.

"Come in. Why don't you have supper with us? We've just started."

Vale takes a deep breath and enters. "Good evening, Captain. Counselor. I was on my way to my quarters when I got your communiqué, Captain. I thought I should stop by to talk to you in person if that is okay."

"Sure, it is," replies Deanna with a smile, leading Vale to the table. Yet, Vale still looks uncomfortable as she takes a seat. Deanna places tableware before her.

"Before we talk ship's business, I just want to say how sorry I am about your loss," the commander begins. Troi's eyes drop to her plate and she is silent.

"Thanks Christina. Deanna and I appreciate your concern." Riker speaks also for his wife. Christina looks about at their quarters, trying to find something to say.

"You know I've only visited your quarters a few times. You've done a great job decorating Commander—"

"Deanna. Please call me Deanna when we're in our quarters."

"Yes, Sir."

Because it reminded her of the conversation with Shenti, Troi smiles at the reply. "It's my fault that you haven't visited our quarters often. Our quarters are also my sanctuary. I really loathe sharing it with anyone but my husband. I'm sorry if you haven't felt welcomed in our home."

"I understand, Deanna."

"Really?"

"Yes. When I was a peace officer on Izar, my superior, Captain Ronald Miller had a sign outside his door that said, 'Warning! Ringing this bell may cost you your life!' The children would ding-dong ditch just to see if lasers went off. Miller was notorious for hating home visits. If we had something pressing to discuss, then we'd speak over the com unit or meet in his ready room."

"Miller was a peace officer on Izar?" asks Troi.

"Yes, he comes from a long line of security officers just like my family. When I wanted to leave the Peace Officer Core on Izar, Captain Miller gave me my recommendation. He was one of the first on Izar to enter the Academy. He's retired now, but knows Captain Picard."

"Miller his names rings a bell. I think Picard said he had terrible luck with women?" Riker asks.

"No, he doesn't The USS McGee was the love of his life! If it weren't a ship, he'd marry her straight off! That and archeology." This elicits a chuckle from the couple.

"You're right on both accounts. Jean-Luc went on a dig with Miller and stated that he wouldn't do it again! Miller was so by the book that little happened during the dig!" adds Deanna.

"Oh my gosh! That is so funny, because Miller said that Captain Picard was so sloppy that he contaminated a sight. I personally think those two are made for each other!" counters Christina, who is beginning to relax and enjoy the light meal.

"Serious? I'd think they would have more in common. Weren't they at the Academy together?" replies Riker.

"Yes, they were. In their senior year, Miller beat out Picard in the marathon," Vale states.

"I thought Picard won that marathon as a freshman," inquired Troi.

"Yes, he did. He's the only graduate that won the race three consecutive years in a row. Miller beat Picard in their senior year," informs Vale.

"You're kidding!" Riker says.

"I should know! We had to listen to that story a dozen times," retorts Christina.

"And we've had to listen to how Picard won the marathon as a freshman—he never mentioned that he lost his senior year," Riker says with a glint in his eye.

"Pride," remarks Troi.

"Sir, when you see Captain Picard, I'd ask him about it!" Vale and Deanna laugh.

"At least we know why they don't like each other," adds Troi.

"They view each other as the competition!" Vale says while finishing her bouillon. "This is really good, Sir. Did you make it yourself or is it replicated?"

"I made it myself. Deanna made the patitatii."

"If I could cook like this, I'd be big as a blimp." With those words, Vale grins with embarrassment and adds, "No pun intended, Captain."

"None taken. But you're right. I've gained weight and got to get it off. Dr. Ree and I are working on it."

"That's good to hear, Sir. Speaking of Dr. Ree, I'll sign your request Commander, but I think you should know that we will be short of personnel."

"I know. Wil and I talked about it. While on leave, I can work 20 hours a week on required operations and take refresher courses."

"I have another idea, Commander—Deanna. Could you teach the refresher courses in diplomacy and helm operations? You've got the credentials."

"Can't Dr. Ra-Havreii or Commander Tuvok teach helm?"

"Are you kidding? Ra-Havreii has no people skills while Tuvok would just put everyone to sleep."

"I don't have enough engineering skills!"

"Deanna stop being modest. When no one wanted to work with Ra-Havreii, you assisted our Chief Engineer with repairs while we were stranded on Orisha. Now, engineering may not be your forte, but you are not dunce and understand the finer points of not only helming a ship, but working with people.

"My husband has made it clear to me that my piloting skills leave much to be desired."

"There is a huge difference between a ship and a shuttle. You do a good job with ships—"

"I was at the helm of the Enterprise D when it crashed on Veridian V."

"Did anyone die?" asks Vale sarcastically!

"Goddess, no!" swore Deanna.

"See! You're good at your job, Commander! I'm signing you up as the lecturer. Sir, that's an order," Vale looks seriously at Troi.

"I don't believe this. Diplomacy yes, but I can't see myself teaching the refresher course on helm."

"We need you," pleads Vale desperately. "Tuvok can help supervise you through the course, as he is good with tactical. Aren't you and Geordi LeForge good friends? The commander can assist you by reading your lectures and giving advice. I'll order the Rossini twins to help when it comes to engineering. Lt. Aili Lavena can supervise when it comes to piloting skills. This isn't a third year academy class in engineering. It is just rehashing things that should be known along with new developments. Besides, it is only a 15 hour refresher course. "As for your piloting skills, I'll speak with Lt. Lavena. You can work with her to update your skills and gain your advanced pilot's license.

Troi's brow furrows when her empathic senses tell her that Vale's request is genuine. "Okay, I'll do it—just this one time. Besides Wil has a better idea of how we can solve our staffing problems."

"I received an update on the crew and personnel of the Enterprise D, later E. I realized that there were a number of young people who were on the ship and who didn't get an opportunity to increase their knowledge or experience, because we simply overlooked them. I think it would be a really good idea if we encouraged crewmembers to pursue a variety of qualifications in a continuing education program. If we needed to form a delta shift, we'd be hard pressed to do it. We don't have enough crew qualified for command. Not withstanding the fact that Deanna is not officially in the command structure, if the people at this table along with Tuvak and Keru were killed, we'd be shit out of luck," I comment.

"Continuing education is a good policy to pursue, but it takes a lot of time. Plus, many people feel threatened when their territory is invaded by less experienced people. Traditionally, the command structure is set up for promotion through higher qualification and experience," remarks Vale

"If people choose to take that route. I'm open to ideas. Deanna's willing to work on it during leave. By making her do the refresher course, you're supporting the idea in spirit."

"True, but the Commander also got a perfect score on her helm exam three years ago," Vale smiles broadly at her superior officer.

"Did I mention that I was at the helm of the Enterprise E when we crashed into the Shimitar?" Troi deadpans.

"If my memory serves me correctly, you were following orders and hit the target! David didn't have it that easy when it came to Goliath!" interjects Christina, who is not about to let Troi weasel her way out of the agreement.

Troi puts her hand on her chest to suppress a laugh at Vale's joke. She looks down and notices her rob is wet. "Excuse me, Christina—Wil." Troi gets up to leave. Vale and I are left alone. Christina watches as Troi disappears into the bedroom.

"She's taking it well," comments Vale while watching Deanna disappear into the bedroom.

"It's just been a hard 24 hours. It'll get worse then better."

"How are you holding up, Sir?"

"I'm on medical leave for three days or longer, depending how Dr. Ree feels. Just got my anodes worked on. Doctor's orders, so I have to be a good boy," Riker says as he rubs his eyes, looking unhappy.

"May I ask you something personal?"

"Ask and I'll decide whether it's too personal answer."

"How did you gain so much weight over the past year. It's not like you to be out of shape."

"Fertility treatments," I let out a deep breath a bit happy the subject is out on the table.

"When we were on Orisha, Troi said you were going through fertility treatments. I naturally assumed she was having problems. Aren't Betazoids and humans compatible?"

"We're that unlucky seven percent, where both couples have trouble producing viable eggs and sperm," Wil replies.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Shit happens, Christina."

"Sir?"

"Yah?"

"Another private question."

"Hit me!"

"While we were on our diplomatic mission to Romulus, Deanna informed me that she and you had a row over her work schedule and fertility treatments. You took liberties and rearranged her schedules and assignments. Have you really thought about what it will be like when you have kids? You can't favor your wife. At the same time she has the right to make her on decisions and follow her career as she sees fit."

"I was a royal jackass during the Romulan negotiations. I swore I'd never be this cocky, weight, throwing captain—like Jelico, but I was no better. The away team getting blasted bought everything home. It taught me that I couldn't protect her or anyone else if the circumstances were wrong. Since then, I've backed off and changed gears. She's never stood in the way of my career plans and I should give her the same respect. Now, I'd be lying if I said it was easy. Despite living in modern times, I think most men are a bit chauvinistic and still have the wish that their Imzadis be bare foot, pregnant and in the kitchen—at least during the formative years when it comes to children. Both Deanna and reality gave me a slap in the face. Even if I really wanted something like that, it's very wrong and illogical to think it. Deanna wouldn't put up with just being a captain's wife with a gaggle of children. She'd be bored out of her head. Besides, the way things are looking, we don't have another 25 years to wait on the phase, because we are basically two different species, despite Deanna's human side."

"I'll keep the bare foot and pregnant comment under wraps, Sir."

"She said it to me!" I point toward the door.

"Ouch! That must have been some knock-out-drag-out-fight!"

"As for kids, I'd like two, maybe three. Adoption is an option, too. This is one of the reasons why I want to start the continuing education program. Since my father's death, I've learned that family is the glue that holds the universe together. Family increases the quality of life no matter how good or bad. Parenthood also stops people from doing stupid stuff or take unnecessary risks. On the Titan, there has to be some type of quality of life while serving on board or people go nuts. Life can't be only about work and the occasional off world tour. It'll be years before we get home. Therefore, Titan is our home for now. We created such an atmosphere on the Enterprise; it can be done on the Titan."

"I thought Picard hated kids."

"He did. I kept the families at bay for over 15 years. Now, he's going to be a father, so Commander Worf just let's the families over run him."

"He must have been an only child."

"No, he had an older brother, whom he didn't get along with until the very end. Robert along with his son Renee died in a fire over ten years ago."

"Wow, Picard must really feel alone."

"Not any more! He's expecting! Plus, he has a niece by his sister-in-law Marie, who couldn't allow the name Picard to die. After Robert's death, she used artificial insemination to conceive her daughter even though Robert had been dead for three years. Lillith is six now."

Vale smiles, "If it helps any, I came into this world with a little help from technology."

"You must be really loved."

"My parents are so neurotic! You'd think I was their only child."

I laugh, "I was an accident!"

"I'd loved to be an accident in a family of ten siblings!"

"Well, you're no accident. You're my Number One—my right hand." Riker smiles at Christina as he says this.

"As Number One, can I help in any way?"

"Yes, we need a bit of quiet time. I know I micromanage at times, because the crew is so inexperienced. Could you run interception until the staff meeting?"

"Sure, Captain. Anything else you want?"

"Just proceed like you always do in my absence. On Monday of next week, I want to have a staff meeting. We'll announce Deanna's leave then. Do staff rotation for Department of Counseling and the Diplomatic Core, where Deanna is serving. We need a mock up for the continuing education scheme, which Deanna and you can think up. Put it on the staff meeting agenda under new topics, so the entire staff can have input. Other than that, tomorrow is your day off, so take it. Tuvok can look after the ship."

"Yes, Sir." The two sit quietly together until Vale speaks, "Sir?"

"Yah?"

"How'd you get Deanna to take time off? A half a year is a long time. I was really tempted to do it myself, but we were short of staff."

"You can thank Shenti."

"Who?"

"Dr. Ree, our chief medical officer," I reply.

The two officers are quiet for a while. I finally speak, "Seriously, I allowed this whole thing to go on too long. Deanna was afraid of letting me down and losing face with the crew, so she held on as best she could. I was stupid enough to believe it would just past. Picard would have my ass if he knew I allowed her back on duty after a month."

"Really? He took 27 days off after being borgified. It was in the report I read on the victims of the Borg wars."

"Ah, shit!" comes the response of Riker after he realized what he had done.

"Sir, you're my mentor, but I also see you as a human being."

"Thanks Vale."

"I wanted to keep the peace among Deanna, you and myself. There is bad blood between the Commander and me. I reprimended her, because I thought she was making several poor decisions in regards to administration matters, negotiations and her health issues. The Commander has proven me wrong on more than one occasion. Our relationship is strained, because she reminds me of my mother. She also appears to be some what condescending, which I've come to recognise as a Betazoid cultural trait than as being a know-it-all. Not to offend you, Sir. I'm just stating how I feel about the situation."

"Thank you for being candid Vale, you makes some very valid points. Commander Troi must learn to defer to your wishes. You should not be afraid to state your opinion when you have valid reasons for an operation to be done to your standards. Don't back down just because she is my wife. She should also respect you, your opinion and how you want something done. On the other hand, Deanna's been in Starfleet for almost thirty years and you're how old? "

Vale laughs, but doesn't answer the question.

"In a few years, we'll all understand each other better. Hell, even I made a mistake, which Starfleet warned me."

"At least you applied the two strikes rule," adds Vale.

"I'll do better next time. No, we'll do better next time. I give you permission to take anyone out of circulation that you deem unfit including my wife and me. Understood?"

"Aye, Sir."

"Christina?"

"Sir?"

"Whatever problems Deanna and you have, I want them ironed out. The senior staff needs to be a team. If there are cracks, the crew will use them to their advantage."

"Understood, Sir."

"You got my back?"

"At all times, Sir!" Vale stands up to leave. "I'm calling it a night, Sir. I'll see you in a few days. Enjoy your time off. Tell Deanna that I said good-bye and thank you for dinner."

"Good-night, Christina."

"Good-night, Sir."

* * *

I get up and go into the bedroom, where I hear the shower. Part of me doesn't want to go on the other side of that door to see my wife huddled in the shower crying. I've had enough today and personally can't take anymore heavy burdens. Yet, my Star Fleet training doesn't allow me to run away and cower, because it values dialogue and hitting the nail on the head. If one thing I have learned, is not to go to bed angry. An issue can be unresolved, but we can't be angry at each other. Therefore, I take my clothes off before I enter the bathroom. For Betazoids, nudity is a sign of non-hostile intent or openness. After all it is near impossible to hide a weapon on a nude body. I chuckle to myself. Worf did at our wedding. As she came down the aisle, Deanna noticed the daggers in his hair and had the silliest smirk on her face, which she recovered from quickly. Later, Worf gave Deanna and me the daggers as a wedding present.

Deanna is sitting in the shower, expressing milk from her breast. Giving her some space, I shave, but keep watch out of the corner of my eye. My wife looks absolutely miserable. Sneaking another peak, I realize that her left breast is inflamed and a deep scarlet. I pick up the tricorder and go into the shower.

"I have mastitis,"

"Dr. Troi, it is my understanding that you have your degree in psychology—not obstetrics and gynecology."

"An Ikii—an indigenous child of Betazed could tell you that. You don't need a tricorder."

"And what would an Ikii child recommend?"

"Find a baby that needs to be feed, put uttaberry paste on it or go for a swim in the hot springs."

"What if you have a duct that is clogged by a five millimeter lump?"

"Grit your teeth and suffer through it."

"Dr. Troi, you look miserable."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"Tricorder says to rub the breast in circular motions until the blockage is cleared." My Imzadi gives me the _what-the-hell-do-you-think-I've-been-doing-look_, which makes me laugh.

"Can I help?"

"William Thomas Riker, you are such a breast man!" Deanna gives me that mischievous smile reserved for when she knows that I have sex on the brain. The same one she gave me at her best friend's wedding when I was a horny dog, ogling what I thought was the bride, but turned out to be the bride's maid. Deanna and Channa still have a laugh at my expense.

"You love me, because I have the magic fingers!" I put my hands under the showerhead to warm them and get to work.

I apply gentle pressure and message her breast in a circular pattern. My Admiral relaxes into my arms. Her scent makes me feel blessed. She touches my mind. I feel how thankful she is for my simple act of kindness. For the first time since her miscarriage, my wife empathically sends me feelings of calmness and acceptance of the situation. A muffled feeling of loss mixed with bereavement is still on the surface of her emotions; however, the overall feeling is one of coming to terms with the situation. I'm relived she is working through her emotions. It allows me to concentrate on my feelings. Focusing on our bound, I gather the last of my strength to send my Imzadi the message of time, which is symbolized by the phases of the moon. My timepiece is Earth's moon in all her various stages.

One of my favorite childhood memories is the rising harvest moon over the freshly tilled fields of New England: the fall foliage with the wind rustling in the background and the smell of winter on the cool air. My wife has a dreaming look on her face while taking in my thoughts. Although her father is from Earth, she has spent surprising little time on her father's planet. My memories introduce her to her second home and welcome her to a missed heritage. Minutes pass by as I show my Imzadi the memories of my cousins and me running through the rows of dried corn and eating ripened apples.

I tire easily with the effort of sending. We are back in the shower with its gentle pattering of water, my hands still attending to their work. A pained expression crosses my wife's face briefly, then she relaxes once again. The memory was too brief for her. She wants more. Unfortunately, I'm too tired to make another attempt. She must be fulfilled with what I have to offer. Still in my arms, she convenes to me her gratitude for me understanding the meaning of time within the Betazoid concept of healing.

"When's Shenti coming?" Deanna asks me as she finely breaks the silence while wrapping her arms around mine. It's a signal to me she isn't successfully managing her pain through Betazoid meditation techniques. I adjust the shower stream to fall on her breasts.

"He's probably busy with the triplets."

"Did you see them? What do they look like?" Deanna asks with excitement in her voice. I can tell she really wants to see them.

"They're cute—mini images of Lt. Upton Lee-Wong and Daniel Star Wolf. I got to hold the girls."

"What color were their hair and eyes?"

"They all had brown hair like their parents. They were asleep so I didn't catch their eye color."

"What are their names?"

"The boy is Tiger. The girls are Fruit and Flower."

"Fruit and Flower?" Deanna looks up me with this exasperated glint in her eyes. We burst out laughing, because Deanna knows that I can be terrible with names when they are not important.

"That hurts, Imzadi," comments my wife. "Oach! Wil! That's not funny!"

"Look down," I say comely.

"By the Goddess!"

"I think, 'thank you Dr. Riker,' would be appropriate. Unless you want to run about the jungle looking for uttaberries and a warm spring."

"Thank you! Just let me get cleaned up. I can't believe that was inside me."

"All part of the service," I say as I begin to shower myself. At that I hear the door chime.

"Riker here."

"It is I, Dr. Ree on my nightly rounds."

"Come on in. Deanna and I are in the shower." I step aside and hit the personalized jet dry, as Deanna is still showering. Like magic, I am dried off and exit to put on my clothes.

"Good evening, Shenti. Deanna will be out in a moment. She has a touch of mastitis, but she's coming along."

"Uttaberry paste is good for that." The doctor gets up and goes into the kitchen to the refrigerator. "You brought some up from hydroponics. Here they are." The doctor rinses the light blue fruit, which has a black fleshy inside and is three centimeters in diameter. He places the cleaned fruit in a bowl and crushes them to form a paste, handing them to me. "Give her that with my compliments. Do both breast for ten minutes with 85% humidity should do it." I take the paste in to Deanna, who is thankful to receive it. Returning to the living room, I find Ree contemplating whether to sit on the wave chair.

"It's extendable and can hold up to 600 kilos, Doc, so don't be afraid to sit on it," I say and hit the button so the chair opens up to its full size.

"Well, in that case I'll give it a try." The Pahkwa-thonh sits, and then lies down.

"I like off world furniture, but there is always a problem of what to do with my tail. Many times there is just not enough space for the two of us. Yet, this chair is very comfortable if I lie on my side. Yes, very comfortable indeed! There is room for all of me!"

I watch the Pahkwa-thonh, who looks as if he is about to go to sleep. His tongue is hanging out of his mouth again, so I surmise that he is indeed happy with the situation.

"My dear good Captain, please don't tell me you are going to stand about gawking at me while I relax on this excellent piece of furniture. My Captain, please, at least take a seat in your own home."

I realize I'm nervous and staring, so I sit on the coach.

"Captain, as Deanna will be detained for some time. I need to have a delicate conversation with you about your joint medical histories."

"What do you need to know that isn't already in our files."

"I want to know if Deanna or you ever had Jalaran fever."

"We were lost in the Jalara jungle, but we didn't get fevers or diarrhea. We had ration packs to eat. It took us a few days, but we got to the rescue point safe and sound."

"You don't know what Jalaran fever is, do you?"

"Vulcan death clap—Klingon trout—Ferengi zwraks?"

"Montezuma's revenge?"

"If that is what Jalaran jungle fever is. We didn't get it. Am I missing something?"

"Jalaran fever is the Betazed word given for terminating a pregnancy."

A chill runs down my back as I realize that I don't know. Since the age of 15 I have used a spermatozoon inhibiter, but there is always that chance that it fails: 1 in 2 million. I run my hands through my hair. After we were rescued, Deanna's mother and my romp with Windy Roper aided our breakup. My heart is thumping in my chest. I'm glad I'm sitting down. I thought I knew my wife. Why wouldn't she have told me something like this, years after it happened? Is she still angry at me for not showing up on Risa? Are there questions that may be unanswered between us?

"Captain? You look uncertain."

I speak in a barely audible voice, "I was 22; she was 20. We had an affair. Putting my career before her, I up and left. I even missed our reunion on Risa. We didn't see each other again until eight years later on the Enterprise D. When she was a young child, Lwaxana arranged a traditional Betazoid marriage. Deanna was betrothed to Wyatt Miller, with whom she is genetically compatible. They didn't go through with the marriage. Wyatt found his destiny with Arianna. He's a doctor and Arianna is a teacher. Both live on an isolated island of Zamator on the planet Haven and have two children."

"You're kidding! Lwaxana went along with that old tradition! That woman is absolutely unbelievable! She's a beautiful daughter who can find her own husband!" Shenti says between clinched teeth. His slurring of the _s_ makes him sound menacing and annoyed with the situation.

"If you're upset, I, too, was surprised that Deanna would go through with such an arrangement. For me, ethically it doesn't make sense, as arranged marriages shouldn't take place in childhood, but as two consenting adults, which both Deanna and Wyatt weren't at the time of their betrothal. Practically, it speaks for itself: Wyatt and Deanna probably would have had children by now."

"Very true, Captain. However, it still does not respect the rights of a Federation citizen. Although Wyatt and Deanna did not marry as children, they were promised. This is against the Federation law that insures a protected and care free childhood. Only in the rare circumstances, can children be betrothed. I can hardly see Deanna as an infant or young child agreeing to anything. Yet, the Federation looks away because this is an internal policy that is seldom practiced."

"The Federation not only overlooks these issues, but aids in arranged marriages, including the marriage of the empathic metamorph Kamala, who was a gift from Kriosian Ambassador Briam to Chancellor Alrick of Volt Minor. Kamala was _trained_ from the time she was born to accept an arranged marriage to a man who was two times her senior. At least Deanna had it better with Wyatt. But these aren't my affairs," I say with a tinge of bitter in my mouth. "By the way Doc, why did you ask about Jalaran fever?"

"I'm sorry Captain that I got off track. There was a termination medication used 30 years ago called Betazoid C21H28O2, which has been banned from the market, because it was found that women who had taken it had complications during pregnancies. The medication did not combine well with off world inoculations. Most Star Fleet personnel have a rigorous immunization programs. Deanna and you have over 350 injections against the galaxy's most contagious diseases."

Ree sits up to look at Riker and continues, "It was once believed that a medication was taken and then left a patient's body through digestion or sweating. We now know that this isn't true. Although many medications are flushed out of the body, they leaves their genetic fingerprint on the patient, especially if it is a combination of synthetic and organic substances that can bind to a person's DNA or body tissue. This is why we know that a person has used illegal or recreational substances years later. I did an analysis of Deanna's DNA and body tissue and found Betazoid C21H28O2."

"Is there any hope for us, Doc?"

"Yes, there have been several therapies that have been very helpful, which I am willing to try."

I look about bewildered, as I take in the various wedding gifts in our quarters. For the first time in a long time, I feel my age: haggard and burdened. I'm angered that my Imzadi wouldn't have confided in me. I think out loud, "We tell each other everything. We are so close." I look out the view port. "She would have told me," I ramble.

"Sir?"

"Yah, Doc."

"Do you know anything about Betazoid family law?"

"No, not really."

"A parent or guardian has the right to make all decisions for her child until the age of 25, until the child marries or goes off world. Unless you were betrothed to Deanna or made public your intentions toward Deanna and your unborn child through legal means, you would not have the right to lay claim to the House of Troi or be given the opportunity to find a surrogate mother for the conceived child had Deanna not wished to carry it."

"What about the Jalaran fever?"

"Lab results show Deanna has the antibodies that are a result of having Jalaran fever. She did come down with an actual case of Montezuma's revenge, as humans call it. Her mother most probably took the initiative and made a potentially bad decision for her daughter when Deanna couldn't."

I shake my head and think how Lwaxana insured the arranged marriage to Wyatt by coming between Deanna and me. Damned the woman's good. By failing to inform me and making the decision her self, she insured that I had no rights if what Ree says is true.

"But why? She's always going on about grandchildren!"

"Lxwanna Troi is also a very observant woman, who holds Betazoid law and culture above all else. To sacrifice one's own wishes for the good of one's child or society is one of the highest spiritual achievements. Furthermore, to go back on an arranged marriage has both social and economic consequences for the House of Troi."

"Ree, I've tried to understand Betazoid philosophy, but I'm getting no where. Sometimes, I feel they do a lot of posturing for bad behavior. I guess I'm happy that I understand my wife."

"Deanna, Lwaxana and Betazoid society are challenging." Ree smiles reassuringly if one can say that about a tongue that automatically slides in-and-out of his mouth while lying across the wave chair.

"Yes, they are." I lie back on the coach, trying not to think about what I'm going to do with my mother-in-law if she ever shows up on this ship. True, I was an emancipated minor at 15 and grew up without really having a family. But I learned as a teenager to manage my affairs or take the consequences. Couldn't Deanna make any decisions in her life without being hounded by her mother! Hell, she had made a good under-21 mom! At that age, Deanna had taught me a few lessons I'll never forget! With these thoughts in my head, I see my wife coming out of our bedroom. Her face tells me she immediately feels my confusion and anger at the current situation. Before she can speak, I beckon her to me, "Sit down, Imzadi. We need to talk."

So I am off on a brief holiday! See you in a few weeks!!!


	5. Chapter 5

Just returned from a quick trip to Istanbul, where I had a lovely time. Here is the next installment. It's not as good as the last, but I promise to add on soon!

* * *

"Shenti made this for you. He says put it on for 30 minutes with a 85% humidity and 40°C," my Imzadi informs me, as I step out of the shower and take the bowl. My husband traces my eyebrow and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, stealing a kiss before wrapping a towel protectively around me. I blush like a schoolgirl. He turns to leave while I dry off. My empathy tells me that he's had an earnest talk with Vale and feels relieved. There is still a lingering concern for me, but he's sending an overall all feeling of calm.

I go to my vanity table to sit down and apply the paste. Although the berries are blue/black, the paste is now a purple mass, which I apply to my breasts. Once this is done I reprogram the climate control and watch the water condense on the mirror. Taking the towel, I spread it on the settee to lie down and wait the prescribed time.

I must have dozed off for a while, because when I awake I feel a deep cloud over me, as if someone is trying to strangle me. My empathy tells me that Shenti is present. He and Wil are discussing something that is very upsetting. I step into the shower to rinse off, hitting the jet dry to speed up the process. Wil's mood becomes darker. I hurry to get dressed. Despite putting on a robe, my purple chest can be seen from the v-cut. As quick as possible, I run through our bedroom and attempt to walk calmly to Wil, who calls me to his side.

"Sit down, Imzadi, we need to talk."

Immediately, I take the place by his side. Wil puts the comforter over my legs and places his arm around me. My Imzadi did this once in the past to tell me that Beverly had been reported MIA. I'm really worried now and think on my mother.

"Has something happened to Mother?" I ask and look at both men.

"No, Imzadi. She hasn't called."

"What's wrong? You're upset. I could feel it all the way in the bathroom."

"We were hoping you could tell us if you ever had Jalaran fever," put in Shenti.

I look at both Wil and Shenti to reply, "That's no secret Wil. I got it three weeks after you rescued me from the Sandarians. I was in hospital for two weeks. It was one of the worst cases ever reported. I even lost my hair."

"Do you remember anything else that could have happened to you while in hospital?" asks Wil.

"I had a high fever for ten days. When it subsided, I was kept for four day observation."

"Is that all?" inquires Shenti. "Were you ill in any other way."

"No, not that I can remember."

"Deanna, there is suffa and there is suffaa. Which one did you have?" Shenti asks me point blank.

"I was sick with suffa. I didn't have an abortion—suffaa," I look at both men again. Wil looks at me skeptically. Shenti's tongue, which usually goes in-and-out of his mouth, stops for a few seconds.

"Deanna, I ran some tests to see why you miscarried. The results showed that you had been administered the drug Betazoid C21H28O2, which is used to abort before the sixth week. This medication does not bond well with off world immunizations and may cause infertility. For this reason it was taken off the market 20 years ago."

Upon hearing the information, I'm shocked. "I would know," I say in a shaky almost inaudible voice. "Wil, I would have told you. We even made plans to meet on Risa." My heart is racing and I begin to shake.

"Was this before or after you had the fever?" Shenti asks.

"Before. You remember, Wil. You sent me a communiqué from the Potemkin and told me that the ship would be in the Risan system." I feel cold and unsure of myself. My Captain is emitting a strong feeling of suspicion. I look at him and put my hand on his beard. Placing my forehead against his, I let him see into my memories. He takes my hands, which are trembling, into his. My gesture makes his mode change to that of protection. My husband understands that I am telling the truth. Ree watches us closely.

"Will I be able to have a child in the future, Shenti? Can you fix this?" I address Shenti after some time has passed.

"There are several promising therapies that I want to try. There is hope."

Bringing my knees to my chest, I try to snuggle into the arms of my Imzadi, who holds me close. Not wanting to, I begin to cry. My mind is racing. Why would someone give me Betazoid C21H28O2? Who would give it to me? Why didn't I know that I was pregnant? When Ian impregnated me, I knew right away. Dr. Pulaski was surprised that my empathic senses made a pregnancy test redundant. I would have felt the child upon conception. My eyes spill over in anguish and I begin to rock.

"Deanna, stay with us!" Shenti orders.

"I can't take this."

"Take what?"

"I don't remember, being sick. I can only remember the hospital. I can't . . . I can't . . . remember," I ramble, because I am terrified of not being in control and not knowing what has really happened to me in the past.

"Deanna, if you were really ill. You wouldn't be expected to remember." Wil is trying to soothe me.

"Deanna, are there other pieces of your memory that are gone? Do you have a difficult time when it comes to remembering hospital visits or which diseases that you had?" Shenti's question makes Wil's head snap about.

"Yes," I'm trying to remain calm, but panic is striking me, because I've come upon this realization years later. I think back. Whenever Beverly asked me a question about a particular illness, my response was that it was in my file. I explained how I hated sickbay. Beverly accepted my position as a personality quark of a therapist. Once a year she'd send me my medical file update. She even humored me by coming to my quarters to give me my physicals. With the exception of visiting patients and preparation for away missions, I steered clear of sickbay. But why was this so? Was I trying to protect myself unconsciously? Have I been holding something back that I don't want to remember?

"Which one's?"

"I can't talk about it," I wince somewhat at this response. Why does it sound so rehearsed?

Shenti ignores my answer and continues to question me. "Were you in hospital after the occupation?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember just waking up and leaving or was there more?"

Shenti's question makes me stop rocking. It dawns on me that I must begin to articulate my hospice on Betazoid—something that I am under strict orders not to do. Racking my mind, I try to remember details of an eight-month recuperation after suffering brain damage during the Battle of Betazed. My mind is blank and I grow somewhat dizzy. Was it not last week that I could remember the details of what happened to me? It once seemed clear, but not anymore. I close my eyes, trying to remember a visit made to me by my mother.

"Doc, would you give me a tissue? They're behind you on the bookshelf. Deanna's got a nose bleed." My Admiral asks Shenti, who does as he is requested.

I look at my robe to see droplets of blood on it and resist the urge to wipe my nose until I have a tissue in my hand. My nose bleed doesn't concern me, because it is a common occurance during Betazoid pregnancies. Cleaning my nose and then stuffing the tissue up my nose to block the bleed, I try to focus my gaze on Shenti. "What was the question?" I ask him for I am confused. How odd I think to myself.

The Pahkwa-thonh sits down on his hunches to observe me. My husband puts tissues in my hands. I look at Shenti somewhat irritated that he asked me about the battle again. What was he getting at? Didn't I say that I couldn't talk about it? Shouldn't he know that I wouldn't? I remember; I've just suppressed every thing. I know I can remember it if I just focus enough.

"Deanna, I want you to think back when you had Jalaran fever. Do you remember your hospital visit?"

"No, not really."

"Second, question, do you remember in great detail your hospital visit while on Betazed after the battle?"

I look at him with a confused look on my face. "What does Jalaran fever have to do with my service to Betazed during the battle?" I feel ill and am seconds away from throwing up.

"I was there. Ask Mother. I . . ." Upon the mention of my mother's name, I become somewhat angry, but don't know why. Mother would protect me, wouldn't she? She'd never let anything happen to me. "Ask Mother," I reiterate.

"Deanna, are you feeling a bit dizzy—somewhat ill?" Shenti has concern in his voice. His second set of eyelids come down and blink, giving him a menacing look, as if he is sizing up his prey. I've seen him do this to patients who are suffering from diseases that are difficult to diagnose.

Despite Shenti's good intentions, I want to run and struggle to keep myself calm. I begin to whimper like a Betazoid kitten. Wil, empathizing with my distress, gathers me into his arms and twines his legs around me, pulling the comforter closer around us. His hold on me makes it impossible for me to flee. I accept that I'm cornered. I try to concentrate on Shenti's last question, but realize I don't know what he asked, so I ask again, "What was your last question?"

"Are you feeling a bit dizzy or ill?"

"Yes, just a minute ago, but it's gone now," I answer, my mind suddenly clear again.

Shenti's eyelids go up and he blinks, as if he has just come into a bright room. "Deanna, I'm going to say some words and phrases. Don't answer." Shent's lids go down again.

"Okay."

"William Riker." Upon hearing my husband's name, I giggle like a schoolgirl.

"Lxwanna Troi." This brings a more earnest response from me.

"Battle of Betazed." I blink and feel my pulse rise somewhat.

"Princess Diana roses." Smile and blushing.

"Sickbay." My face falls.

"Battle of Betazed." I become very uncomfortable and feel somewhat defensive.

"Tribbles!" Laughter, as Worf hates tribbles.

"Jem'Hadar." Dead silence follows by a mean stare.

"Enterprise D." Another smile that fades when I think of how she crashed.

"Baby." Tears threaten to spill out of my eyes.

"Birthday." I snicker for I'll never tell my age!!!

"Chocolate." I smile again and am rewarded with a piece by the good doctor. I stick it in my mouth quickly.

"Very well done, Deanna." Shenti slides backs his second lids and enters information into his ever-present tricorder. "Deanna, can you tell me why you've such a fear of sickbay?"

"Uhm-humm. –ust let me –inish –ewing dis," I say swallowing quickly. Forgetting to say thank you, I lick my lips and begin, "I haven't liked them since my father died. I was with Mother when she was called to sickbay to identify my father's body. She knew that my father passed away, but she was afraid to leave me alone. Captain Vance Haden of the USS Carthage didn't tell my mother she had to identify my father, so mother took me with her. When we got to sickbay, there were two other families. I was made to wait with them. When mother went to get my father, the staff hadn't prepared the body properly—there wasn't time. Mother collapsed. Having felt this, I went to look for my mother and saw too much. It was one of my first empathic experiences as a child. I'd never seen anyone dead. Let alone with plasma burns." I fell silent thinking about that time with my mother.

"And?" Shenti's tongue slides in and out of his mouth while his head cocks to the side in his specie's form of a smile.

"And what?"

"Please, Deanna, tell me that this memory is intact."

"Do you know something that I don't know?" I bring my hand to my mouth to submit a snicker.

"Let's just say that Captain Riker and I should be careful with the deceased in our sickbay."

"I kicked Captain Haden and told him that he should do a better job of running his sickbay, that families deserved better. My mother shouldn't be on the floor crying in grief. Then they hypoed me."

"And?"

"By the mercy of the Goddesses, Shenti. I don't want to put the fear of death in my husband."

"Madam, you have a beautiful spirit when you're angry. It gets better! Your mother told me all about it some years ago. It made her proud you were a Daughter of the Fifth House."

"Don't call me madam!"

"As you wish, but don't be modest!"

"When I woke up, I was still furious. Captain Haden was over me. My mother was still upset in the corner. Security was standing at the door. Some how I got my hands on a phaser and held everyone captive. Captain Haden tried to call security and I stunned him. Then I told the medics to get our fathers ready for transport for which they did. When the medics came with the bodies, I gave the phaser back to Captain Haden and told him that my father's service to Starfleet should be better honored. I took my mother's hand and walked out of sickbay. Luckily, Captain Haden didn't prosecute." After I'm finished, I can feel my husband's agitation.

"You shot a captain with a phaser?" asks Wil with disbelief in his voice.

"He deserved it. No one should have to go through what we did." I snarl. My answer leaves my husband with an incredulous look on his face as if he'd just been slapped. Immediately, I look away, embarrassed at my blatant disregard for authority, despite the many years that have past since I acted so childishly. Personally, I know that I could have killed someone, but the thought of how we were treated makes my blood boil. As a counselor I should know better. The good that came out of my experience is that I have had few complaints when it comes to the return of the remains of the deceased. Once burned—twice learned.

"Very good. That you remember that incident," replies the good doctor.

"Shenti, what about your questions?"

"Your responses were within the expected parameters."

"Don't lie to me!" I snap out of control for my empathy tells me he is withholding information. My Imzadi embraces me tighter and hums in my ear to calm me. "Don't shut me up!" I yell at Wil.

"Deanna! Stop it right now!" barks my husband in a voice that says don't play with me. His tone reminds me of my father who was known for his corporal discipline of his over indulged and wayward daughter. My father was one of the few people who could say "no" to me and make me mind. Funny, how quickly I grew up after his death. My posture falls and tears of frustration roll down my face. I hate not being in control. Wil's hands and arms have not lost their protective embrace. He sends to me a feeling of warm and of being there for me. I calm down.

"Deanna, I shan't lie to you. Please, know that I will be honest. What you read from me was uncertainty. Your eyes dilate whenever the words 'Battle of Betazed and sickbay' are spoken. There are a number of possibilities that could explain this."

"What did they do to me?!" I cry, breathing hard. I startle myself with this revelation. I always thought I hated sickbay because of what happened to mother and me as a child. Perhaps, it is something else. My head is aching and I want to pass out just thinking about it. I lay against Wil for support.

"I don't know what happened to you, Deanna. I can't answer your question right now. But your dilated eyes and aggressive behavior are clues that something untoward happened to you." With that Dr. Ree gets up and packs his medical kit. Before he goes, he exams my breasts and gives me a hypo. I don't remember anything after that. Perhaps, it is for the best.

* * *

A small being's unhappiness wakes me. I find my Capatain holding me protectively and snoring loudly. He's rattling in my ear and I'm trapped beneath him unable to role my flapjack. I accept the situation for what it is and look up at the chronometer that reads 08:11. It's morning and I've slept a good ten hours thanks to the medication that Dr. Ree gave me. Realizing the reason I awoke was that my empathic shields had been lowered due to the medication; I put my shields up again, shutting out the emotional babble of the ship. Once my shields are in place, the pandemonium subsides and I meditate so that I feel calmer and more balanced.

I am slightly angry at myself for I know that it was a baby crying that woke me. A tear roles down my face again, but I force myself not to grieve. Deanna, I say to myself, "_you have to move on. It's been two days. Shenti will figure something out for us."_ My subconscious tells me not to get my hopes up while I yell at myself to remind me that hope is not false; it is just hope, which is all my Captain and I have to hold on to.

I look toward the window seat. My father still isn't there. I don't think he will ever come back. I chastise myself again. _He'll come again when he is most needed I say to myself_. I think back on what my husband told me that my father realizes I have someone to take care of me now. I remind myself I am not alone. I smile a little. As much as I hate it when Wil snores, it is a constant reminder that I'm not by myself. I conjure my father up in my head and place him on the window seat to watch over me. Although he is not like my lost image of my father, pretending has its benefits. A pained expression crosses my face. I did the same thing when my father died. I put him in a corner so he could be there for me. It's just a blessing of the Goddess that he manifested himself.

Wanting to go back to sleep, I close my eyes, but remember the conversation from the previous night. I realize I've got some things to sort out about my hospice stay. Why do I get so short when Wil or someone asks me about my participation in the Battle of Betazed? I know I was on three different missions: a) to escort a prison to the Homeworld, b) to eradicate the Jem'Hadar and c) has to do with the Jem'Hadar, but it eludes me. I think about this and realize I'm perfectly happy to go on without knowing. Why is this so? Perhaps, not knowing is saving my life or something.

Because of these issues, I perform the quatictii: the reliving of memories. I try to sort my memories into steps. It's not easy. It dawns on me that the Battle of Betazed was a mental fight. One of my strongest memories is of pain going through my head while performing a strenuous mental task against the Jem'Hadar. But what did we do? How did we get rid of them? Why did they die? My memories are convoluted. I begin to shake and grasp for breath. Blackness descends on me again.

The smell of tissue wakes me. My Imzadi is wiping my nose and looking at me a bit worried. I look up him lazily while tracing my fingers around his beard. He clumsily stuffs a piece of paper in my left nostril.

"Good morning, Admiral Troi. Who have you been battling in your sleep? You've got a bloody nose."

I just look at him and don't say anything.

"Cat got your tongue?"

No response, simply a blank stare from me. I send on our link:_ I don't know what is wrong with me. _Then I add a_ good morning Imzadi, _because I don't want my Captain to think I'm upset with him.

"It's okay. We've been here before. Tell you what. I'll talk and you send," says Wil as he carefully undoes my gown to inspect my breasts, which are somewhat smaller, but still leaking. The purple coloring is almost gone. Satisfied he covers me up again. His fingers find themselves into my hair and he gives me butterfly kisses all over my face. I blush like a schoolgirl and give him a very passionate kiss that he returns while breathing in my scent.

He sighs heavily before he speaks, "Wanna go back to sleep?"

_No, it's 10:37. You need to exercise. _

"True, why don't I go swimming? I'll be back in an hour. Then we can have brunch."

_No walking about the ship and being nosy. _I give him my loveliest smile possible to convince him that I want him home and not with his mistress: the Titan.

"I have to get the shift reports. You know the routine."

_Okay, if you're back in an hour, I'll make your favourite flapjacks, but low fat._

"You feel up to cooking for me?"

_It's the one Earth speciality that I can make without buring. Be happy that I'm offering. _

This makes my husband smile. Before we can finish our conversation, the door chime rings. Wil gets up to see who it is while putting on his robe.

I listen to the conversation at the door. "Good morning. Dr. Ree, Lt. Lee-Wong. We weren't expecting you today. Is that Tiger you're holding lieutenant? Where are my manners? Please come in," I hear my husband say.

Upon realizing that a baby is in the next room. I jump out of bed, go relieve myself and take a sonic shower. Because my chest is so large, I put on one of the maternity dresses mother sent me. It's one of mother's overly dramatic, long flowing affairs with rainbow color pieces of cloth in the skirt that one can use to swaddle a baby. I simply put my wet hair in a pony tail and ignore the fact that I don't have any make-up on. Ten minutes later I enter our living room to see the baby. I'm smiling until my empathy tells me there is a very unhappy and hungry child present.

"Commander Troi, good morning. I'd like to introduce you to Peaceful Water or Hu San. It's Chinese for third Tiger child," says Lt. Lee-Wong while holding her son, who is screaming at the top of his lungs in his baby carrier. The force field keeps the decibel level of the red-faced infant at bay. I sit next to my husband and caress the child's face with my index finger. He's so tiny and smells of citrus.

_Wil what's wrong? Why is the baby hungry?_

_I told them you had laryngitis from crying so much._

_How thoughtful. Thank you. What is the problem?_

_Lt. Lee-Wong''s milk didn't come in; the lactation enhancers didn't work, because of her allergies. She had an allergic reaction to them._

_By the Goddess!_

_It gets better. Tiger has a similar allergy to replicated milk that blocked his intestines. Lt. Lee-Wong wants to know if you would foster her son for eight weeks until his digestive system is more mature._

_Ask Shenti if I'm compatible match for Tiger. I wouldn't want him to get ill again._

_Doc says you're an ideal candidate. It's like feeding your child cow's milk, but you're much better: you're a yak._

_A what?! _I feel somewhat insulted and my question makes my husband wince in pain. He puts his hands up to his temple. Upon seeing this, I feel guilty. _Sorry, I didn't mean to yell! _I put my arm around my husband.

_A yak is the distant cousin of the cow. Yaks have twice the fat in their milk as a cow, according to Shenti._

_Wouldn't that give Tiger intestinal problems and high chloesterol?_

_I would hope he wouldn't need your services that long for health problems to crop up._ At this, I smile somewhat.

_You wouldn't mind?_

_It's up to you. I'm not doing the feeding. You do have the time. BTW, maternity leave puts you at 15 hours per week._

While we are communicating, Ree and Lee-Wong look at us, but remain silent. I smile at Tiger. Considering the loss of our child, I'm some what divided. I wonder if I could just give him back after the eight weeks, because I might grow overly attached. Then there is the issue of the loss of my child. Tiger would be a beautiful diversion, but when he is gone, I'd still have to deal with my loss. Research finds that taking in another child after the loss of one's own lessons the sorrow, but rarely replaces the loss and hurt that the parents feel. Another child could never replace one's deceased child. As a counselor I know this and am hesitant to put myself in such a position.

_What's wrong, Imzadi?_

_I want to do this, but I'm afraid that I won't want to give him back. He doesn't deserve to be fought over._

_You can say 'no'. No one will think badly of you._

_How can I say no when he needs me! Yet, he isn't a replacement for what we loss._

_Imzadi, don't over analyze this. Follow what your heart tells you is right. My Imzadi's advice is full of understanding without sounding commanding or judgmental._

With these words, I rest my chin on my husband's shoulder and blink back tears. Before my husband can send to me again, Dr. Ree speaks, "Deanna, are you worried that you won't be able to give him back after the eight weeks, that you'll have separation anxiety?"

I shake my head in agreement somewhat relieved that I don't have to say my fears aloud.

Shenti ever the enthusiast and diplomat offers his solution, "Well, we are in luck. Because of your mixed heritage, your milk has a higher fat content, meaning that Tiger only has to be feed every five or six hours. What we can do is that during the nights he stays with you for convenience, but during the day, he's with his sisters. Lt. Lee-Wong will bring him by for his feedings or you can visit her. In about a month, the feedings will be reduced to three or four a day; the whole situation will be even less disruptive. Hopefully, by then we can introduce a formula that Tiger's body will accept and wean him. Naturally, we have to take into account how my patient is fairing, so this shouldn't go over the prescribed eight weeks. The worse case scenario would be four months by which time Tiger would be introduced to solids."

I shake head in agreement. Wil pats my shoulder in support.

"Very well then. We gentlemen will take our leave and allow you ladies to discuss the details. Captain, shall we go for a swim? My skin is in need of moisture." Wil kisses me and goes to change.

Before leaving Shenti whispers in my ear, "We'll talk later about your anxiety. This is an area that Tuvok can really help you on." I look at Shenti questioningly and he winks at me. Wil arrives ready to go. The two make a comical pair as they leave our quarters with their gym bags: through our opened door I watch how both command respect from the crew whenever they go out into public.

Picking up the baby carrier, I motion for Lt. Lee-Wong to follow me to the nursery. I turn on the lights.

"Oh, my gosh, it's heaven on earth," cries Lt. Lee-Wong upon seeing the 25 square meter room that is packed from floor to ceiling with shipping containers, open boxes and tools. Unlike Ian's room aboard the Enterprise D that had standard issue walls, a few toys and a bed with a colorful blanket because there was no time to decorate as he had suddenly appeared, Titan's room is a baby's paradise or better said a holosuit for infants. The hover cot in its alcove gently rocked within its containment field on a cushion of air. Traditional wallpaper is replaced by a holo emitter that emulates scenes from the Jalaran jungle with exotic animals running through and stopping to look at the baby in the hover cot. The floor that is covered with carpet, if one could call it carpet, is lush and green. Hanging from the ceiling is Titan as the main light source. The stars and the planets spin on their axes in the sky, offering not only a warm light to the occupants as they walk into the room, but an accurate depiction of the current star system in which the ship found itself. "Did the Captain build this for you?"

I turn and smile brightly and put my hands over my lips.

"I won't tell anyone, but the hubby. No one would believe me that you had a holo emitter in the room."

I point to the floor to ceiling windows that line the wall opposite the door.

"Are those sun panels that are integrated into the windows as an independent energy source for this room, so as not to strain the ships resources?" Lee-Wong asks. "I heard about them, but thought they were a gag gift."

Nodding in the positive, I move an assortment of boxes to the left side of the room. A full size bed is there, but has more boxes and toys on it. I grimace in exasperation. Mother is often times too much I think! One child couldn't possible use all this stuff.

"I'll help you with that, Counsellor." Upon hearing this, I make a face and spell out my name using the Federation sign language.

"Okay, Counsellor, Deanna it is. You can call me, Upton," Lt. Lee-Wong replies.

Once the bed is clear, I hit a button on the wall and it retracts into a sofa. Going to the integrated dresser, I retrieve a baby pillow, returning to Tiger and Upton. I notice the infant has cried himself to sleep. With his arms above his head and a twisted-reddened face, he looks as if he had just had a swig of Romulan ale and passed out from the effects of the brew. When I remove him from the carrier, he shakes somewhat and whimpers, but doesn't wake up. My empathy tells me how overtaxed and hungry he is. He's also still in a bit of pain. I tap his tummy and look at Upton, who automatically rummages in her baby bag.

"Dr. Ree gave me this for you. You're supposed to drink the whole two liters. This is for Tiger. Dr. Ree stated to give him two drops before each feeding. It should help with gas. Because of his blocked intestine, Dr. Ree gave him a hypo an hour ago; it still should be good."

I shake my head no.

"Is he still in pain? Wow, you can you feel that?"

I shake my head in the affirmative.

Lee-Wong taps her combadge, "Lt. Lee-Wong to Dr. Ree." One could hear splashing in the background.

"Ree hear."

"Counselor Troi, I mean Deanna says the baby still has some discomfort. Would you send a nurse to her quarters with a hypo?"

"Yes, I will! Ree out!"

Upton smiles at Deanna, who has begun to nurse Tiger after administering his medication. The overtired child's efforts are slow going at first until he realizes that a meal has been set before him. Nurse Ogawa shows up to administer the hypo. She doesn't say anything except for the pleasantries while she scans all three patients for their vital signs. She quickly departs, leaving the two women alone with the infant.

A part of me is glad that I can't speak right now, as I am so full of raw emotions. I try to stay calm as not to upset the child who is enjoying his feeding, amazed at how effortlessly he latches on. Upton sits silently on the coach next to me. I steal a glance at her. Her almond eyes show signs of having cried along with the dark shadows of fatigue. She looks as if she will fall asleep any minute now. If losing a baby is traumatic, I think of what it must be like having three at one time. Traumatic probably doesn't come close to describing what Upton and her husband are going through now. I operate the controls on my side of the sofa, which rolls out only the bed where Upton is sitting. I pat the bed for her to lay down."

"It's okay. I can hold out. Plus, I have to go back to sickbay to the girls. I can rest there when you're finished."

I sign sixty minutes and then put my finger to my lips in the our secret symbol. I tell her that we can chat later. Upton puts her head down on the pillow and doesn't need convincing. Within minutes she is asleep. I burp Tiger and allow him to nurse on the opposite side. I lightly message his stomach and check his nappy. Please that he is dry, I lay him on my chest to admire him. The redness in Tiger's face is gone. His little body curls around me seeking my warmth. I use the long pieces of cloth from my dress to form a kangaroo pouch so we can cuddle for a while.

In gratitude he opens his eyes fully and shows me the most beautiful set of green-brown eyes. I smile, because his name suits him well. I finish the tea Dr. Ree gave me and swivel the bed back. I feel a spark of happiness in my soul—something that I thought I had lost over the past two days. I tend this small spark like a campfire, frightened that this joy that I feel will be extinguished by the wind and I will be left with feelings of loss and grief again. Tiger opens one eye and looks at me briefly. He grins lopsidedly, convincing me other wise. I am at such peace. My last thought before I fall asleep is that I must be thankful for what the Goddess has given me and not dwell on what she has taken away.

* * *

Well, that is it for now. See you all in about three weeks with an update!


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